TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN
By Loren Roberts

PGA players start every week with the same goal—to reach the top of the mountain in the world of golf by playing better than all the other golfers in the field and winning the tournament.

I’ve been grappling up that mountain for nearly 13 years (in 1994), steadily climbing nearer to the peak. Over the last few years, I’ve often found myself close to the summit only to lose my footing before reaching the top. My emotions have gotten the best of me.

The 1991 Greater Hartford Open is a good example.

Playing well all week, I came to the last nine holes in contention and swinging great. I saw myself just inches away from the mountaintop when I slipped—managing to miss two 3-foot birdie putts and sink a ball into the water on a par-five.

As a perfectionist, mistakes like that are hard to accept. That’s when my negative emotions began to flare.

“Here you go again, Roberts,” I said, beating myself up. “What are you doing, stupid!”

Those negative thoughts sealed my fate. There was no recovering after that. One stroke kept me out of a playoff. And, because it was a three-way playoff, I finished a disappointing fourth.

I honestly thought the ’91 Hartford was my tournament to win. But my inability to accept a few mistakes caused me to stumble once again.

After blowing it like that four or five times, I questioned myself. “Do I have the guts to make it to the top of the mountain in golf?”

Such strong feelings of self-doubt were impossible for me to share with anyone, until now—not even with my wife Kim. Although I’m sure she knew the struggle inside me. That’s where the real battle was, not on the golf course, but inside of me.

The question was whether I could begin to accept my mistakes without allowing my emotions to take over and fill me with negative, self-defeating thoughts which I knew were not pleasing to God.

In 1 Corinthians 9, the apostle Paul wrote, “Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win. And everyone who competes in the games exercises self-control in all things. They then do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. Therefore I run in such a way, not without aim...I buffet my body and make it my slave, lest possibly, after I have preached to others, I myself should be disqualified.”

The real goal is not winning a golf tournament (a “perishable wreath”) but exercising self-control and yielding to God’s will—not letting the bad circumstances get me down.

Paul also says in Philippians that a person who is mature in Christ will forget “what lies behind and reach forward to what lies ahead,” pressing “on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13,14).

Wanting to please God and honor Him with my thoughts and emotions, I was determined to win this inner battle. This past year (1993), I made a distinct change in my life—buffeting my body and my mind. I made a commitment to spending more time in God’s Word and more time on my knees. I believe that extra time with the Lord has matured me a lot.

I started a regimen of physical conditioning—aerobics, weights, stretching exercises.

Like physical training, maturing spiritually is a process that takes time. I started that process in 1983 when I accepted Jesus Christ into my life. That’s when the journey began—the growing process of being more and more dependent on Him and seeking His will for my life. I’ve always tried to give all the circumstances in my life over to the Lord, but I always seem to get in the way. My negative emotions emerge, taking me on a roller coaster ride of highs and lows.

I don’t think that the Lord wants us to be victims of our circumstances, but to press on confidently in Him.

That’s where the real victory came for me at this year’s Nestle Invitational.

My first three rounds of 70-70-68 put me in with some tough company on the last day, Fuzzy Zoeller, Nick Price, and Vijay Singh. I was playing a solid round of golf. My game and my emotions were steady.

Thinking I needed to be at least 14-under to have a chance to win the tournament, I went for the green in two on the par-five 16th. My ball landed in the middle of the green. From there, it could have gone in a number of acceptable places. It could’ve stayed on the green or rolled to the back fringe like Fuzzy’s did when he played the hole. Or it even could have trickled into the greenside bunker, which would have been 100 percent better than where it ended up—nestled deep in the thick rough between the fringe and the sand trap. I tried not to let it bother me, figuring I had a chance to knock it close to the pin.

I fluffed my shot from the rough and left it on the top level of the green, leaving an impossible putt.

Normally at that point I would have thought I’d just blown the tournament and started telling myself how stupid I was for screwing up. Instead, I thought, “You know, the last two holes at Bay Hill are tough, and you never know when a putt might fall.”

I made my par and remained 13-under. Fuzzy, who was playing behind me, birdied the 16th hole, putting him at 14-under, while Vijay Singh was 13-under with three holes to play.

It didn’t look good.

On the 17th hole, a long par-three, I could have hit a two-iron, but there was no way it would stay on the green. Instead, I hit a high four-wood to the middle about 50 feet from the hole. After seeing that Fuzzy had taken the lead with a birdie at 16, I knew I had to give my putt a chance. I took a run at it, speeding it nearly six feet past the hole. If I missed the putt coming back, I had no chance. After standing behind the ball lining up, I closed my eyes and said, “Lord, help me do my best and accept Your will, whatever happens.” As I took my putter back, I could see it wavering. It wasn’t straight back and straight through, but the ball came off the putter straight and went right in the middle of the hole.

After that, I felt a lot of peace—even about the last hole. The par-four 18th at Bay Hill is one of the toughest holes on Tour. I wasn’t bothered by my poor drive—right off the neck of the club—that left me 237 yards from the pin. I just grabbed my three-wood and knew I was going to hit it somewhere on the green, which I did, about 40 feet from the hole, leaving a putt much like the one I had at 17.

Wanting to see where Fuzzy stood, I waited to hit my putt. The scoreboard clicked to reveal his double bogey on the 17th hole. A sigh of relief. But they also posted that Vijay made birdie at 16, putting him 14-under. Knowing Vijay is a long hitter, I figured his chances of birdieing 17 were pretty good. I had to make this 40-footer.

The minute I hit it, I knew I stubbed the putt—hitting a little bit of the ground in my stroke. I feared it wouldn’t get halfway to the hole. But it kept going and crawled up to within a foot of the hole. I tapped in and played the waiting game.

To my surprise, Vijay three-putted the 17th green for bogey and drove into the rough on 18, preventing him from having a reasonable chance at birdie.

I never dreamed that 13-under would win the tournament. But with a little help, things went my way this time, and I won my first PGA Tour title.

Although winning the Nestle meant a lot to my career, the real victory was inside. I was finally able to control my game and rely on the Lord to help me emotionally accept bad circumstances and any outcome and press on confidently. Even if I’d lost the tournament, I won at something greater—learning to let go of my will and accepting God’s will and the outcome that He designs, good or bad. This small victory is just the tip of the iceberg in my process of maturing in Christ. I have a long way to go.

I experienced a double victory that week—winning the tournament and winning the battle inside. Next week may be a different story, because we all start on equal footing once again—at the bottom of the mountain.

This article originally appeared in the Links Letter, March 1994.

LOREN ROBERTS

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