Why Scottie, and God, never miss tricky two-foot downhill putts

Even if you live on Mars, you’d have heard of Tiger Woods. Possibly you haven’t heard of the first male golfer to dominate the game like Tiger did: Scottie Scheffler, the long-time world No.1 who has won most times he’s teed the ball up in 2024, who has for the last three years loomed over his opponents as Tiger used to, and who started this weekend’s US Open as its shortest-priced favourite ever.

You might, on the other hand, have heard of Scheffler’s caddie and playing partner: God. It’s another title Tiger used to hold.

At time of writing, God’s position on the Open leaderboard is one of the many unknown things about him/her. Such is Scheffler’s consistent brilliance, he and God are probably lurking. Since March, God and Scottie have finished in first place most Sabbath afternoons, including the US Masters at Augusta (their second green jacket), making them the most successful duo since Tiger and his magic wand.

Scottie and God are immensely popular among American crowds. They win frequently and they’re American. Tossing a blade of grass to test the breeze suggests that they’re not so hot elsewhere. Scheffler has an unusual golf swing, torquing his feet like he’s dancing a gangly twist, but that’s the end of the personality side of things.

His face ranges from mildly smug to mildly peeved. What is not mild is his extraordinary distance control with his iron shots. He can land a nine-iron from 160 metres like he’s dropping an ice cube into a glass. There’s a saying in golf that not even God can hit a one-iron, but by teaming up with Scottie, he/she has found he can hit it straight and true.

Fans of Our Cam Smith don’t like Scheffler for walking all over Smith’s putting line when Cam said he was going to LIV Golf. But maybe God doesn’t approve of LIV. The Almighty had already shown a distinct dislike for Greg Norman. When Scheffler won this year’s Masters, he stressed why God favoured him over, for example, the Shark: “I’ve been called to come out here, do my best, compete and glorify God,” Scheffler said after his win. He had been to his prayer group that morning, “And my buddies told me… my victory was secure on the cross. And that’s a pretty special feeling.”

Out of this world: Scottie Sheffler.Credit: Simon Letch

It’s a winning strategy. And if it’s a genuine belief, as it manifestly is for Scheffler, then it’s even better than a strategy. Which makes it the best strategy of all.

This is always the question when God is enlisted for competitive sport. It’s all very well when God brings inner peace and trust in a higher being, a moral compass and the other benefits of religious faith. But why should God help one competitor beat every other one? Why should God be picking winners?

Scheffler said, in that same post-Masters chat, “I wish that I didn’t want to win as badly as I did… I love winning. I hate losing.” Suddenly, God was beginning to look like Scottie’s personal swing coach again.

God played a different role when Scottie, eyeing a Tiger Slam, was playing in the PGA Championship in Kentucky last month. In a hurry to hit some practice balls, Scottie dodged a police cordon around a road fatality and tried to sneak into the golf club. He got arrested and started day two in an orange jumpsuit providing mug shots.

Scottie Scheffler receives the green jacket at Augusta in April.Credit: AP

Scheffler said it was a “misunderstanding’ that had caused him to disobey police instructions. God had not explained to the heavy-handed officers why the world No.1 was in a hurry. The charges have since been dropped, which shows God prefers Scheffler over, say, Donald Trump. The most bizarre sporting event of the year, the incident showed that God has not lost their sense of humour.

God then exacted his/her own punishment by making Scheffler finish behind Xander Schauffele in the event. Schauffele, Scheffler; it’s possible God had misheard.

But the American God plays these games of chance in a mysterious way. Golf is not unlike punting on cryptocurrency, and in January this year, a Denver-based pastor named Eli Regalado, who had lost his parishioners’ money to a crypto scheme, said that, “Half a million dollars went to the IRS, and a few hundred thousand dollars went to a home remodel that the Lord told us to do …. And the Lord said, ‘I want you to build this the way that it should be done.’ And so I’m like, ‘Where’s this liquidity going to come from?’ And the Lord said, ‘Trust me.’ So we keep moving along. God keeps confirming. God keeps showing up.”

If this is the case, God has to be responsible for the lipped-out putts and fluffed chips as well as for the green jackets. If God is actually God, then he’s also responsible for Scheffler’s opponents’ games too, whether they’re part of the prayer group or they’re Phil Mickelson. OMG, he’s also responsible for LIV.

Routinely, for decades, winning sportspeople have given God (and the boys) due credit for their wins. Less routinely do you see him, her or them given credit for disasters and implosions.

Golf has driven people to more extreme solutions than religion. But Scheffler, an evangelical Christian, sees himself as on a journey of converting others. So not only is God the 15th club in his bag, but when Scheffler gets a great bounce off the right part of a tree, or when his ball runs into the flat base of a bunker rather than plugging near the lip (and it happens all the time, believe me), is this random, or is it God in drag as Lady Luck? Scottie’s mission is to tell us it’s all in the Lord’s plan. Even more so if the Lord’s plan and Scottie’s are on the same page.

After the Masters, Rory McIlroy (whose luck over the past decade suggests terrible impure thoughts) said Scheffler exceeds all golfers in his ability to clear his head of all outside pressures and self-doubt. Is this what God is, after all? A divine absence?

I know I’m thinking about this all wrong, and I know I’ve been led into the temptation to mock. I respect anyone’s belief, I just don’t buy their thanking God for deciding that they finish first and everyone else finishes behind them.

At the end of these major tournaments, I miss Tiger’s pagan celebrations and his impure thoughts about what he’s going to do when he gets off the course. Today, we hope for a vision of a genuine sportsperson acknowledging all the lucky breaks, winning the event and keeping their faith to themselves. That would be a miracle.

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