Scottie Scheffler Winning the British Open Means Nothing—and Everything

Scottie Scheffler kisses the Claret Jug after winning the British Open.

Golf—an alternately delightful and soul-crushing game invented to promote suffering and force people to make poor choices in pants—will mold a philosopher out of anyone.

Who among us hasn’t thunked another ball into the scrubby brush and poison ivy and wondered:

Why am I here?

Why do I play this stupid sport?

Why can’t I just play pickleball like a normal person?

So it wasn’t surprising to hear professional Scottie Scheffler gaze into the abyss in the days leading up to the British Open.

Scheffler is better at golf than anyone on the planet, but he was wrestling with the meaning—or meaninglessness—of it all.

“Why do I want to win the Open Championship so badly?” Scheffler asked the assembled press, channeling Socrates. “I don’t know, because, if I win, it’s going to be awesome for two minutes.”

At another point, he said: “This isn’t a fulfilling life.”

“It’s fulfilling from the sense of accomplishment,” Scheffler elaborated. “But it’s not fulfilling from a sense of the deepest places in your heart.”

By now you know what happened next. Scheffler went out and won the Open at Royal Portrush in a romp.

It was another display of the talent that has made Scheffler a generational player—and a brilliant example of how a champion compartmentalizes inner doubts.

Scottie Scheffler’s not sure why he chases this.

And yet, he chases it, still.

In the aftermath of Scheffler’s win, the jokes weren’t hard to find—are you going to enjoy this for more than two minutes, etc. He tried to deflect the fuss around his earlier comments, calling it a case of clickbait running wild, but I don’t think it was.

I don’t think what he said is anything to be embarrassed about.

I think it made Scheffler sound pretty cool.

The whole ecosystem around sports is so consumed with the how that it almost never pauses to ask why.

How do I win? How do I win more? How do I get better to win?

Those are questions of the trade, from its professional pinnacles to school and youth sports. Seldom is there any deep probing of the purpose of it all. We assume trophies are the cure.

What if you get everything you’re working for, and it doesn’t make you whole?

That’s what Scheffler’s asking. What if winning’s not a cure?

It recalls a scene in the movie “Chariots of Fire” in which Olympic teammates watch Ben Cross’s sprinter Harold Abrahams somberly dress at his locker after winning a gold medal he’d sacrificed nearly everything to achieve.

“Now, one of these days, Monty, you’re going to win yourself,” one of them says. “And it’s pretty difficult to swallow.”

Scottie Scheffler celebrates with Bennett.

Scheffler has obsessively sought these victories since childhood. Turning pro was his ambition since he was a toddler. He said he used to wear pants instead of shorts in the hot Texas sun because that’s what the pros did.

The way Scheffler plays golf—precise, deliberate, limiting mistakes—shows a highly trained attention to detail. With two major wins this year, the 29-year-old is dominating in the sport in a way few ever have.“He is the bar we’re all trying to get to,” said Masters winner Rory McIlroy.

Scheffler isn’t an especially flashy personality, and hasn’t strained himself to be one. He’s been candid about his spirituality and home life, how he prioritizes his faith and family over his profession.

That’s his ballast. He reiterated it after winning the Claret Jug Sunday.

“Golf is third in that order,” he said. “Golf isn’t how I identify myself. I don’t identify myself by winning tournaments, chasing trophies, being famous, or whatever it is.”

Scheffler’s pre-tournament commentary flew around the planet. Tour de France leader Tadej Pogacar was asked about Scheffler’s words during his own press conference in the Pyrenees.

“You need to enjoy the moment,” Pogacar said. “Enjoy the little things and not just the victories.”

‘You need to enjoy the moment,’ says Tour de France leader Tadej Pogacar.

Scheffler surely didn’t intend to launch a worldwide dialogue on the meaning of winning. But his words struck a chord in a distracted digital world, in which happiness is fleeting and there’s a gargantuan economy selling quick fixes (apps, pills, ice baths) without any hard thinking about what’s happening underneath.

To be clear: Scheffler loves golf. This isn’t a tormented Andre Agassi, secretly seething with a hatred of tennis. He’s earnestly asking why it doesn’t fill him up.

“I love the challenge,” Scheffler said. “I love being able to play this game for a living. It’s one of the greatest joys of my life, but does it fill the deepest wants and desires of my heart? Absolutely not.”

Here’s the good part. Scheffler knows what fills him up. That became clear in the aftermath of his victory Sunday, when his 1-year-old son, Bennett, made an adorable attempt to ascend the 18th green.

You could see it in Scottie Scheffler’s face. He’ll remember that moment forever.

That’s what matters. That’s all the meaning anyone needs.