Every Saturday afternoon at my golf club, the tables of knowledge convene. Men, mostly, in groups, yapping, shouting, putting shit on each other. It's socialising, though these men would never call it that. They’d never call it anything.
Consider a typical conversation when members meet at the bar...
“How’d you go?”
“Shit-house. How’d you go?”
“Shit-house.”
There will follow group discourse around who’s buying a jug, who’s got a tip for Flemington race six, whose football team beat the other person’s football team.
It’s like one of those ‘Men’s Sheds’ except less manufactured, less forced. It’s organic, natural. It just is.
And it happens every day in every golf club in the land. A round of golf and a few drinks afterwards can be fun and social.
And it's actually important stuff.
Because men, any age, can feel isolated. Pressured. Stressed. Alone. Having a chat with the people at golf can be some of the few friendly interactions some men have.
Some women, too, of course. Yet, generally, girls talk more easily. Vulnerability comes more naturally. Empathy is sought and reciprocated. Talking about relationships, feelings, love, pain, it’s like balm. Necessary.
Men, largely, not so much.
Yet regular catchups, conversations, particularly across four hours of light aerobic exercise in a fun and competitive setting, with one's mates, it’s valuable stuff, without, perhaps, even knowing it is.
With the tragic news that Grayson Murray took his own life, you wonder could the man have benefited from more social rounds of golf, more post-round bet-settling, more fun.
Could more time with his pals throwing a little shade on him have given the poor bugger more light.
We can’t know, of course, what demons Murray was battling. But we do know the life of a touring golf professional can be isolating and stressful. They operate in a bubble, of sorts, accompanied by a little team of people who rely on that one individual, sole trader, as font of potential fortune.
Lucas Herbert missed six cuts last year and part of his worry was for his team - caddy, coach, trainer, few others - people who also had a mortgage, but for whom Herbert Inc. paid $0 on those lost weekends.
So, Herbert took a break for “mental health” and it was reported as such, and we received it as we receive news like this ... you know, as if it's a bit of a thing.
Because you hear ‘mental health’ and there’s still … not stigma. We're largely beyond that. But we can think, Oh. Mental health. Mental illness. What's doing? Scary.
We don't know so very much. And the noises in our own melons are complex enough before we play Sigmund Fraud on someone else's.
Yet Herbert was at pains to point out that his break was a positive. It was a reset, a de-stress. He wasn’t "ill" – he just needed a holiday. And he was smart and ballsy enough to just do it.
Herbert has good people around him. And now, in the team environment at LIV, he has a crew of mates. He said he feels less like an individual contractor, as types can feel in their own world on the PGA Tour, slugging it out, ploughing around generic golf courses, staying in soul-less hotels, ‘working’, ‘grinding’ to keep the roadshow going.
JUST IN: The parents of PGA tour golfer Grayson Murray have confirmed that their son took his own life.
— Collin Rugg (@CollinRugg) May 26, 2024
Murray took his life after he withdrew on Friday during the second round of the 2024 Charles Schwab Challenge.
“We would like to thank the PGA Tour and the entire world of… pic.twitter.com/bBeZiAJdbI
You’d like to think you could offer a mate the advice that Herbert gave himself – step back, chill out, don’t worry, be happy.
You wonder what anyone could have said to Grayson Murray. He’d won the Sony Open in Hawaii this year. He’d made the cut at the Masters where he went birdie-eagle-birdie at 14-15-16 in the final round.
He was 30 years old. He was off the drink. Yet it, whatever it was, all just built up for the poor man.
His family and friends are now left with so many ‘what ifs’. What if we’d said something, been there, done that. It’ll be with them forever.
Of course you want to be there for your mates. You’ll do anything you can, right? Yet they can be difficult conversations. Saying something, asking something ... again, it's often not comfortable for men.
But, play golf with your mates over four hours, have a couple afterwards, and you swap all kinds of stuff in an uncontrived, unforced setting. You talk, you interact, you give, you receive.
And, maybe, you feel comfortable enough to ask: how are you, mate, alright? Or let them know what’s doing with you.
Tables need the knowledge.
If you or anyone you know needs help:
- Lifeline (24-hour Crisis Line): 13 11 14
- MensLine Australia: 1300 789 978
- Kids Helpline: 1800 55 1800
- Suicide Call Back Service: 1300 659 467
- Beyond Blue: 1300 22 4636
- Headspace: 1800 650 890
- ReachOut: au.reachout.com
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