The Third Leg

On the list of most famous and important numbers, three sits at or near the top. So many things break down readily into a trio of related parts. Time unfolds as past, present, and future. A family unit consists of man, woman, and child. Body, mind, and spirit comprise a human being. These represent but a few of the many examples of important sets of three.

Not surprisingly, the world of sports includes plenty. One perhaps reigns supreme. The excellence of elite athletes stands not on two legs, but on three. These metaphorical appendages relate to the body, mind, and spirit. Top athletes, including competitive anglers, rely on physical skills, acute knowledge of how to play their game and a burning desire to win. 

All athletes and knowledgeable fans recognize the importance of a sports star's fervent desire. This fact probably provides the genesis for the prominent myth related to the need to give 110%. In reality, no one can give more than 100%. In order to achieve their lofty goals, elite athletes don't rely on trying harder than is humanly possible; they find ways to push their performance level close to 100%, so they can fully realize their potential. The bigger the moment, the more they show supreme gifts in this endeavor.

In an attempt to better explain how famous sports stars deliver clutch performances by tempering their white-hot desire to win, I recall the 2008 U.S. Open Golf Tournament, played at Torrey Pines, in La Jolla, California. The event morphed into a duel between the game's top player and a foe with a much less impressive resume. As the showdown between Tiger Woods and Rocco Mediate neared its end, many of us marveled at the way Woods endured, despite the fact he limped around on a broken left leg!

Anyone with even modest awareness of the game and a lick of sense knew Tiger would win. The truth took five days to reveal itself. Specifically, the events which occurred on the 72^nd hole of regulation perfectly exemplify the qualities inherent to competitive excellence. The Cat, as I like to call him, came to the hole needing a birdie to tie Rocco and preserve his chance for victory.

The last hole at Torrey is a relatively easy par five, reachable in two shots by the pros with an iron, if they drive the ball in the fairway. Most of us expected the game's dominant figure to simply drill one down the pipe, plunk a mid-iron onto the putting surface, lag the ball close, then hole a short putt to force a playoff.  Surprisingly, we saw something entirely different, more complicated; the events painted another stripe on the shiny coat comprising Tiger's on-course legacy.

The Cat pulled his tee shot left, into a fairway bunker. This was a physical mistake, flawed execution of the proper plan. Correcting the error would require utilizing a clear mind to employ a sensible strategy. Though he and his caddy Stevie discussed going for the green from the sand, both knew doing so would likely end poorly. Despite its modest length, the final hole at Torrey has a small pond fronting its green, waiting to drown the hopes of anyone who leaves an approach short, or who spins one back off the putting surface. 

So, rather than take a potentially disastrous risk, Tiger laid up. He knew better than to try to force something to happen; he would simply control what he could control and allow the right result to reveal itself. The choice demonstrated his ability to use competitive intelligence to constrain the urgency spawned by his unparalleled desire to win.

Problem was, due to another physically flawed move, his second shot wound up in the right rough, about 90 yards short of the pin, which stood in a hole tucked in the front right corner of the green. Getting the ball close on the third shot would require a deft touch, a supremely high level of physical skill. Controlling the spin and as a consequence, the distance of the shot, proved challenging indeed.  And The Cat knew he could not take a direct line toward the hole; doing so involved too much risk of rinsing his ball in the pond. With the delicate feel of a surgeon, he lobbed his ball onto the right edge of the green, where it stopped about twelve feet above the hole.

The greens at Torrey Pines, like most others out west, include a grass known as poa annua, which makes the putting surfaces notoriously bumpy late in the afternoons. As the sun slowly slipped toward the horizon etched by the Pacific Ocean, we could all see spike marks and other imperfections lying between Tiger's ball and the front edge of the cup. The road to Rocco's ruin looked like a rough ride.

Still, one thing felt profoundly inevitable—the dimpled orb bearing the Nike swoosh would find its way to the bottom of the hole once it stopped rolling.  Woods would make a four and tie Mediate, because maintaining his hopes of earning the trophy required it. The Cat's competitive spirit fairly glowed as he stood over the putt in silence, then did what we all knew he would, generating a thunderous roar from the crowd.

Draining that putt felt like a triumph of will, not of mind over matter, but of heart and soul over matter. As if to add an exclamation point the greatest sustained run of golf ever played, Stanford's most famous alumnus beat Rocco in an 18-hole playoff the next day, because his game included all three elements on which the stool of sporting excellence stands. The greatest player of his time had all the physical tools—he knew when to gamble and when to play safe, but more importantly, he consciously controlled his supreme will to win, giving every ounce of himself to the task, but never needlessly pressing.

It's Ali leaning into the ropes and duping a dope, then knocking Big George down and out, Jordan swishing the buzzer-beater to clinch a three-peat, Keri Strug landing her last vault on a busted ankle, to preserve the pride of her nation. Like Rudy Tomjanovich famously said after his Houston Rockets overcame a 3-1 deficit to win a 7-game series against the Phoenix Suns, then moved on to win the NBA title. “Never underestimate the heart of a champion.”

Champion anglers, particularly those who rely on using artificial lures exclusively, stand on the same three legs as other top athletes. Elite anglers know how to find and catch fish; they also show steely nerves and durable will to win. They display grace under pressure, though they aren't always sure exactly what winning will require of them. In this way, a fishing tournament plays out much differently than a golf tournament, basketball game or Olympic gymnastics event. Tiger knew for a fact he had to make a four on the 72^nd hole at Torrey, or he'd lose. Keri and Mike knew the score too. Anglers compete in events with less clarity.

When accepting this daunting challenge, elite anglers avoid some potential pitfalls related to the physical execution or skill component in their sport. On the biggest day, they don't try new equipment or lures, nor do they tinker broadly with presentation styles. They remain steadfast in their dedication to the skills and equipment they've practiced and used effectively over time.

Likewise, anglers who stand out from the crowd rely on proven strategies and locations when fishing competitively. They don't try new spots, nor do they rely on ones they've proven won't likely produce the right fish, simply because those places feel comfortable to them. They add up all the elements on the day or days of the event, fishing in places and in ways which they believe can produce the desired results, given the conditions and restrictions in play. They commit themselves to the spots they choose, but not in a myopic manner; when they perceive a real need to change locations, they make intelligent moves. While making all decisions, they trust percentages more than thinking outside the box.

So, like elite athletes in other sports, top-notch anglers rely on both physical talent and premium knowledge about strategy, then lean on the third leg of excellence. These anglers succeed because their foundation does not wobble—the contribution of their enduring spirit equals the prowess of their physical and mental skills, creating the balance inherent to the winning efforts of all champions. They fish with intense focus and confidence, not in an attempt to give some super-human, 110% effort, but to allow their potential to fully realize itself.