How much calmer and better would the world be if we were all as zen as Open champ Scottie Scheffler, asks Bill Leckie

Scottish Sun

4 days ago

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RORY wore his heart on his sleeve like a sponsor's logo.
Big Bob was constantly fighting with himself more than he was the elements.
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Bob Macintyre gave his best again this week
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Local favourite Rory McIlroy was also in contention
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But none could match Scottie Scheffler for mindset and execution
Tyrell Hatton swore so often that if Sky had charged him a quid a time they could have done away with subscription fees.
Tommy Fleetwood sliced one into the rough, threw his arms in the air and yelled about how much he hated his swing.
Bryson DeChambeau was a genius one moment, and a 24-handicap hacker the next.
The closer each of them — plus Li, Gotterup, Fitzpatrick, the Hoejgaards, English, Schauffele and the rest — got to the tickly bit, the more the pressure, the prize, the noise, the weather, and most of all the voices screaming in their heads wrung them dry of every sort of emotion.
Each of them, that is, except Scottie Scheffler.
Who wandered the links for four days like he was going for the papers.
A man in a bubble, unaware of the mayhem around him.
So in control of his thought process that, if you'd spent the week only watching his face, you wouldn't have known if his ball was nestling in the bottom of the cup or the depths of the sea.
Look at his eighth hole on Sunday, when the radar failed for once and he ended up with a double-bogey six.
Bryson DeChambeau reveals he used to beat Scottie Scheffler for fun as world No1 chases Open glory
All around him, the afternoon came alive. Every radio and TV commentator starting talking up the odds of him crumbling and turning a canter into a contest.
Maybe the engraver even paused with his burin in mid-air.
For a few frantic moments, everyone was excited.
Except, that is, for Scottie — who walked to the ninth tee, popped one down the middle, pitched up and got one of his shots back pronto.
That, right there, was the difference.
While every shot Rory hit was an adventure, while Li got drawn into trying to match his superstar playing partner rather than sticking to his own game, while angry Hatton got angrier and angrier at putts not dropping, and Scottish Open champ Chris Gotterup hauled himself so far but no further, the bearded, self-contained, and bordering-on-boring Scheffler forever kept his head in perfect, tidy working order.
That's why, despite all the furore over the golfing types being hustled away early on Saturday night to make way for a loyalist parade, the REAL procession was already long since underway.
It started at 3.11pm on Friday, the moment the 29-year-old with the wisdom of an ancient teed up to start his second round, smashed one down the middle, and pitched up to drain the first of eight birdies on his way to a 64.
It carried on all the way to his triumphant stroll to the 72nd green to seal a deal that had looked inevitable for something like 50 hours.
He didn't need flutes and drums for his soundtrack, though they could have followed him down the fairways and he wouldn't have heard them.
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Scottie Scheffler was the calmest man in Portrush all week
Credit: Getty
Scottie didn't need the sashes and the bowler hats, just his anonymous polo shirts and hoodies and baseball caps.
He didn't even need the Royal Portrush crowds urging him towards the Claret Jug — which was just as well, as most of them were fighting for a glimpse of local hero McIlroy.
Yet you get the feeling Scheffler wouldn't have bothered whether he had been shadowed all week by two men and a dog or the entire population of Ireland.
Why? Because that's something he can't control and, in that brain of his, anything he can't control isn't worth bothering about.
All he thinks about is gripping the club and hitting the ball. Whether he hits it perfectly or puts it in a peat bog, it's gone in an instant, and all he thinks about is the next shot.
If we could all take that mindset into our daily lives, wow, how much better a world would this be? How much calmer and happier would we be?
Scheffler got some heat before a Titleist was struck for admitting in a press conference that the joy of winning big events lasts roughly two minutes before he starts thinking about what's next.
For musing about what the whole circus really meant, when compared to being a husband and a dad and a good human being.
But look at him out there. See how focused he is. And don't dare sneer that his pre-event comments suggested someone that doesn't care — because no one out there cared more.
There's a place the most successful in all walks of life can go to where nothing and no one gets in, where they can access their abilities without being put off by outside influences, by What Ifs, by worries about what the other guy's doing.
Scheffler has a bought-and-paid-for penthouse apartment in that place, a mind palace with the clearest possible view of where he's going next.
Is he exciting to watch? Not particularly. In fact, without him it might all have come down to one almighty cavalry charge, one of the most dramatic finishes to an Open in living memory.
Trouble was, he WAS always there, working away methodically and strolling along calmly, ticking off hole after hole towards a victory that was never going to belong to anyone else.
Sure, he's supremely talented. They all are, everyone who performs at this level.
What separates him from the herd, though — just as it did Tiger and Jack — is that head of his, that bubble Scottie exists in.
And the problem for everyone chasing him in the rankings is that Callaway don't sell them. . .
RANGERS in the Champions League.
Hibs in the Europa League. Dundee United in the Conference League.
One by one, our first three hopefuls step on to the continental stage this week — and it's almost impossible to gauge how they will do.
Pretty much everyone has had their say on whether or not Russell Martin's new-look side are as Ready as it says on Gers' crest — and the overall consensus appears to be they can't possibly be.
But is anyone really that much clearer about where David Gray or Jim Goodwin's men are after a handful of friendlies between them?
As I wrote here last week, the shrinking nature of our close season helps no one get in tip-top shape for tests this big.
Which makes the next few nights as fascinating as they will be pivotal for managers, players and fans alike.
United really should be good enough to make it past Luxembourg's second best outfit, UNA Strassen.
Martin's men at home to Panathinaikos, though? Gray's away to the ever-well-drilled Danes of Midtjylland?
Truth is, only the managers and players have any real idea where they are at.
And even then, they are all still guessing.
REALLY like the idea of penalty shootouts to decide drawn games in the Premier Sports Cup.
So much so that I would happily see them brought in week to week once the league kicks off.
They were doing it donkey's years ago in the Russian championship, and it always struck me as a nice way to spice up games that would otherwise have petered out.
It would be like Bullseye, that point's yours, it's safe, now you get to go for the speedboat.
Well, for an extra point. But you get the gist.
How about it, you blazers?
BOXING needs a new level where Oleksandr Usyk fights grizzly bears or sharks.
Or plays chicken with speeding trains. And another where all the rest sit and bad-mouth each other, pretending they are actually contenders.
Or maybe, after watching the Ukrainian batter Daniel Dubois at the weekend, his next defence should be against Fury, Parker, Wilder, Bakole and Zhang — all at once.
Usyk would still feel cheated if he only won on points.
SO many people got bent out of shape when egg-chasing superkid Henry Pollock claimed a Lions whitewash of the Aussies was very much on the table.
But after seeing them win the First Test in Brisbane without leaving second gear, there really should be a stewards' inquiry if they DON'T sweep the board.
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