On Sunday I watched Phil Mickelson finally win his first major. I have been a fan for years. Though I am usually not interested in the hundreds of PGA events, I watch the majors (especially the first three) with great interest. Along with other golf fans, I have watched Phil choke or just be in the wrong place at the wrong time more times than I can remember. So, when Ernie Els got his first eagle to take the lead, I thought it was over. Ernie is a winner, I told my wife, and knows how to close out a tournament like this. Phil can't get past his own demons.

But then a strange thing happened. I watched as Phil started smiling more and more as the round went on. The pressure was mounting--the tournament win edging away, and this guy was smiling! He was enjoying this!

So, later, when Phil put on his green jacket and smiled the smile of a winner, I realized how much I respected him for this. I know, I know. Golf is a trivial pursuit compared to others that people spend lives on. And with or without this win, Phil is living well. He isn't hurting for money and wouldn't have been with a second-place finish. Compared to people all over the world, this was a very trivial non-event. But it had meaning for me. I liked that damn smile. This was a guy who had jokes told about him, who others referred to as a choker, who didn't get respect even though he won year in and year out.

I am sure that had to hurt at some times. It had to suck when an unknown like Justin Leonard won the British, or Ben Curtis (who?) won a major so early in their career. It seemed to happen so easily for others, yet here was a guy who won other tournaments every year and couldn't get the major.

I guess I relate to that. I earned my doctorate after numerous years of battling in grad school--battling with overly-critical advisors, or inner demons who told me my stuff didn't matter. I battled hard, and finally finished, only to struggle again on the job market. All around me I saw other people finish their dissertation with less effort (it seemed) and often receive acclaim--acclaim that eluded me. Some of them were the Tiger Woods--just damn good. Those never bothered me, and most of them were more help to me than any kind of hindrance. But some of them were the Ben Curtis's of the world. They weren't smarter than me(nor dumber), just better positioned, or with better advisors, or just lucky. Hard not to feel good for them for succeeding--but hard not to feel bad about my own situation. The analogy doesn't quite work, because Phil is on Tiger's level, while I am nowhere near the top of my profession. But I somehow feel a connection there.

That connection, I think is that Phil seemed to have found a way to stop allowing those critics, or other people's success define him.
Somehow, while not just denying the monkey, he found a way to fight his way on, undeterred by major failure and keep enjoying what he was doing. After a while, I think it would have been easy to get testy with reporters who kept asking how it felt not to win, or how it felt to be the best player never to win...... At a certain point, I would have wanted to use a 7-iron in a manner not prescribed by the manufacturer! But he kept coming back and kept competing. And smiling. I really felt as he walked up to the ball in the fairway on the 18th fairway, that he would be sad if he lost, but not devastated.

I can learn from this. Adversity doesn't have to be such a negative thing--and I often forget that. We often want success or happiness or whatever, but usually want it to be easy. But that isn't always the best way to get something. I will keep pushing for my major--regardless of the shanks in the trees, the swing that comes and goes and the rejection letters in the mailbox. And if I decide to stop playing that particular game, it will be my choice and will not be because I have given up.

Maybe I can even learn to smile.