Playing competitive sport at a high level is certainly a stressful thing to do for a living. Indeed, anyone who has played golf has felt that same stress. It can be a frustrating business. The harder you try, the more your performance can deteriorate. 

More effort when things are going badly is such a human instinct, but invariably all it does is feed the beast. That aspect of golf has always been part of the game and I imagine it always will be. Conversely, of course, that golf is difficult is why we love it. Connecting your body and your brain in an attempt to achieve something you deem to be worthwhile is so rewarding. 

Beyond that basic aspect, when golf is your living there are absolutely moments that test you psychologically. I’m not talking about first-tee nerves or a hole where there is OB left and water right. That’s just part of the game. But Tour golf is different. 

My mind goes back to the qualifying schools I attended early in my career. I went to two stages of the European Tour School, the Aussie Tour School and a couple of years later, the PGA Tour School. Those weeks were incredibly stressful. My whole career was on the line, or at least that’s what it felt like. Even at the best of times, no golfer has ever been completely in control of every aspect of the game. Sometimes you wake up and play well; sometimes you wake up and play poorly. So, a lot of golf is unknown and out of your control. Scary stuff.

So, it’s more than butterflies in your stomach. All week at those Q-Schools I just felt “wrong.” I had a physical reaction similar to what you get when going into a doctor’s surgery. Which was different from any other tournament. I felt like I could sleep for three weeks after I was done. 

All of which only underlines how much the brain influences, and ultimately controls, what goes on during a golf tournament. Although I wouldn’t put those sorts of feelings in quite the same category as the mental health issues some sportspeople are currently experiencing. 

Still, during that period of my career I enjoyed that aspect of the game. The stress was part of why I liked the job. It was my life’s ambition to play golf professionally, so I was happy to do and endure whatever it took to do well. Q-School was just a step on the way. I embraced that, even if it was the first-time nerves became stress. My mind was racing and I had a constant feeling of unease. I so wanted it to be over with. 

All of which only underlines how much the brain influences, and ultimately controls, what goes on during a golf tournament. Although I wouldn’t put those sorts of feelings in quite the same category as the mental health issues some sportspeople are currently experiencing. 

Later on, when I was struggling with my game, things changed. I arrived in Greensboro for the last event of the 2017 season in the 125th and last exempt spot. I was the guy on the bubble. And that was stressful. That week I didn’t go out to dinner once. It was room-service all the way. And I have to think I was pretty short with the people I did talk to.

In the end, I played well and everything was fine. But I was completely rattled going in. 

All of that is “on-course” stuff though. What is really hard is missing three cuts in a row, then sitting in an airport waiting for a flight home. Those are lonely times and places. I’ve been there, wondering why I was playing golf for a living. That’s Tour life though. Even at his best, Tiger was winning only 20 percent of the time. So, there must have been plenty of occasions when even he was frustrated. 

That frustration inevitably leads to mental punishment. We remember all the bad stuff. The missed fairways, greens and putts remain most vivid. There have been many times I’ve sat at dinner wondering if I will hit a straight shot ever again. That grinds you down. You just can’t get it all out of your head. Round and round the negativity goes.

Here’s the thing though. One of the biggest factors in the rise of mental health issues in sport is social media. Everything is more visible now. There used to be, say, 80 anonymous golfers on Tour. True golf fans knew them, but not many others. Now, just about everyone is well known. Nearly all Tour pros have thousands of “followers’ out there in the ether, so there is a lot of engagement going on. 

That can be great. But there’s a downside. Information on how people feel about you is now readily available. Constantly. Most of us can rationalise and realise that it doesn’t really matter what most people say about you. We know we weren’t trying to miss that short putt on the 15th green, so that spectator X lost the bet he had going. It’s not serious. But over time it begins to grate. It wears you down.

I went pretty hard on Twitter for a couple of years, then got off. Every now and then I would take a look at the comments. And maybe one out of 100 would be just toxic. I didn’t need that in my life, even if I was relatively small fry compared with other players. 

These days, everything a sportsperson says is out there. And all of it gets critiqued, which must be tough to live with. Golfers beat themselves up enough without everyone else piling on. Part of the challenge on Tour is being nice to yourself, which is more difficult if everyone out there is calling you names. Trying to make thousands of people happy on Instagram or whatever is almost impossible. But that’s the task sportspeople set themselves.

I must admit I was affected a couple of times. I have always tried to be reasonable and helpful with the press. I rarely said “no” after a round. But on Tour you pretty much go straight from the 18th green to the interview area. In team sports, players get to have a shower, get changed, decompress and run everything through their minds. Golfers get asked questions right after they have three-putted the last two greens.

It’s like, “you must be disappointed with that finish Geoff.”

I mean, what do you say to that? And on at least one occasion I did behave like a bit of a dickhead. I said something that was heard by a few people, which led to my comments getting a little bit of a run on Twitter. A few people were calling me an idiot because I was rude to a journalist in a bad moment. And that made me try to be better. It had a positive effect, even if I didn’t really have a big issue with chatting to the media.

I’ve been down about golf and been in some pretty low places mentally. But it’s never been so bad that I had to take a break from the game. I’ve never avoided media interviews because I couldn’t handle the questions. I’m sure that is a real thing. But it isn’t something I can really speak to. I’m not qualified.

Which brings me to Bryson DeChambeau.

I have to say a lot of guys back in the day would have been getting as much grief as Bryson does right now. Besides, I have to think at least some of the stuff he pulls is intentional. No one can be as smart and educated as Bryson is, yet still be so tone-deaf. He does seem to be trying to create reactions. 

On the course, my attitude to what might be called “bad behaviour” is different. Between the 1st tee and the 18th green I can excuse a player almost anything. The game drives us all nuts and you are a different person on the course. You just are. We all know that. So, it isn’t fair to judge anyone’s character based on what they do playing golf. The game does crazy stuff to people. 

I’ve been down about golf and been in some pretty low places mentally. But it’s never been so bad that I had to take a break from the game. I’ve never avoided media interviews because I couldn’t handle the questions. I’m sure that is a real thing. But it isn’t something I can really speak to. I’m not qualified.

So, I’ve been lucky that I haven’t visited too many “depths.” But if you want to challenge your mental health, play golf professionally for a while. You’ll soon find out where you are. If you are liable to break, it will break you. Intuitively, I have to think individual sports are more difficult mentally than team sports. As I said, the best career of all-time won once in every five events. In the other four he was a loser.

There is nothing lonelier than being in a big situation – the last group in the final round – and playing poorly. You can’t dig a deep enough hole to go hide in. You are so exposed. It’s like making a speech in front of a big crowd while wearing no clothes. And that’s a tough place to be mentally. 

Speaking of which, a Tour locker room on Sunday night is the place to see a wide variety of head spaces. Everything from elation to relief to utter despondency is on view. There will be guys who can’t function enough to even pack their bags. They are just so “what am I going to do now?” Yet they can go out the next week and shoot 65. But that’s golf. And we all have to find our own ways to handle it all.