Victor Penney:

Interim writer Victor Penney, Sporting Life

It turns out I have something in common with the greatest golfer in the world and, no, it has nothing to do with our abilities.

Scottie Scheffler makes the game look easy and has earned tens of millions of dollars playing it.

On my end, golf has every right to get a restraining order against me, and not just because I have trouble sinking six-foot putts. I have zero control over my swing, an ugly, uncoordinated mess that poses a physical threat to everyone nearby. Years ago, I almost hit a group of women with four nasty slices in a row before deciding to throw my ball down the fairway so I wouldn’t injure anyone.

No one will ever confuse Scheffler and me on a golf course, and I’m OK with that. What the two of us do share has nothing to do with the game – it’s our love of being dads.

Scheffler made international headlines with his devotion to fatherhood ahead of this summer’s British Open, telling reporters that being the greatest professional golfer isn’t his number one priority. “At the end of the day,” he said, “this is not a fulfilling life.”

“There’s a lot of people that make it to what they thought was going to fulfill them,” he continued, “and you get there, you get to number one in the world, and they’re like ‘What’s the point?’”

This is something Scheffler says he wrestles with on a “daily basis,” which isn’t something you expect from a man with 17 wins on the PGA Tour. This is a man who doesn’t define who he is by his professional accomplishments.

“If my golf ever started affecting my home life,” he said, “or it ever affected the relationship I have with my wife or with my son, that’s gonna be the last day that I play out here for a living. This is not the be-all, end-all. This is not the most important thing in my life. And that’s why I wrestle with, ‘Why is this so important to me?’ Because I would much rather be a great father than I would be a great golfer.”

That’s the money quote that made me an instant fan, and I pray more men will embrace his outlook, but not everyone feels that way – just ask Tom Brady, the seven-time Super Bowl champion who sees fatherhood in a different light.

Brady seemed puzzled that Scottie would prioritize fatherhood over professional accolades and chimed in about it in his email newsletter. “My question is,” he wrote, “why are those mutually exclusive?”

Brady’s position is that a man’s pursuit of excellence in his career will teach his children the importance of “doing what it takes” to take care of his family, and the former quarterback said he did that by playing football. “My dedication to the sport, the hours of practice, the moments when I was laser focused—those were times when I believe I was doing the best possible thing for my family and my kids, by prioritizing my profession and teaching, by example.”

I agree with Brady’s perspective up to a point. Sacred Scripture, after all, teaches us how fathers are supposed to be role models of holiness and integrity, like when Moses delivers God’s decrees to the people of Israel: “These words which I command thee this day, shall be in thy heart: And thou shalt tell them to thy children.” (Deuteronomy 6:6-7)

There’s no denying that leading by example is a significant part of being a father, and hey, a few Super Bowl rings are a nice cherry on top if you can win them. Sure, Brady has a few more of those than I do, but like him, I’ve seen the joy and pride on my children’s faces when I succeed, so I get it. There’s a point, though, where Brady’s argument falls apart.

There’s a point when I know children want their dads to be dads instead of superheroes to everyone else. I know my own brood appreciates me more for being their father instead of a writer, whether we’re playing chess, going to the park, or even when slime gets stuck to the ceiling of a church hall, which is a long story for another time.

Families don’t only need dads to be providers, they need them to be present and active in the lives of their children. The Super Bowls and golf championships are special, sure, but those will never replace a fatherly love that’s rooted in faith.