I was ticked off when Kevin Stadler walked off the 18th hole of Augusta
National on Sunday, and instead of embracing his father, golfer Craig
Stadler, who was waiting just off the green, he sailed right past him,
seemingly too upset that he'd bogeyed the 18th hole of the Masters.
Had
Kevin parred it, he'd have finished in a tie for seventh. Instead, he
finished in a tie for eighth. Big deal, right? To my judgmental eye,
Kevin had blown it, in front of CBS' national audience. CBS
obviously had expected something of a special father/son moment as its
cameras followed Kevin and caught the awkward, wince-inducing blow-off
of his dad, who had finished his round earlier. It was the first time a father
and son had played the Masters in the same year.
But when given the benefit of a little time, I'm usually far less judgmental than what my initial instinct might be.
Almost
every time, I'm brought back to this point: How would I like it if my
worst moment of the year, the month or even the week was caught on camera
for others to see?
I'd be embarrassed; that's how I'd feel.
Every single week, I'd be devastated if me at my worst was suddenly
broadcast to a large, unforgiving, judgmental audience.
I don't
know Kevin Stadler. I'd never heard of him before Sunday. I have met
Craig Stadler a few times during the early '90s when I covered the
Masters for a few years. I remember the elder Stadler to be generous and
kind. I imagine the apple didn't fall too far from the tree, but again, I
don't know.
I do know that I won't look back at Kevin Stadler's
10 seconds of post-Masters fame with disgust anymore. Instead, I'll
choose to offer grace. I know I'll be needing some in return any minute
now.
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