Eighteen holes of match play will teach you more about your foe

When Grantland Rice, the poet laureate of American sport, declared, “Eighteen holes of match play will teach you more about your foe than 18 years of dealing with him across a desk,” he revealed a truth that echoes through the ages: the crucible of competition unmasks the soul more swiftly than the long masquerade of daily dealings. In the controlled rituals of business, a man may hide his true self—he may cloak greed in courtesy, conceal envy behind smiles, or veil cowardice in polite words. But on the open field, with the sun above, the wind as witness, and the pressure of contest upon him, his heart is laid bare for all to see.

The game of golf is not only one of skill, but of spirit. A man must wrestle not merely with his opponent, but with himself—with the whisper of doubt, the fire of impatience, the sting of failure. In match play, there is no refuge in averages or excuses; every hole is a test of nerve, judgment, and character. How a man stands when fortune favors him, how he responds when the tide turns against him—these moments reveal more than a thousand polite meetings across a desk could ever tell. For on the course, there are no walls, no titles, no secretaries to shield him. There is only the player, the ball, the ground, and the truth.

Think upon the legendary match between Bobby Jones and Francis Ouimet in the early 20th century. Jones, though supremely skilled, was fiery and quick-tempered in his youth. It was in these matches that his impatience became evident—slamming clubs, muttering in frustration. Over time, through the discipline of competition, he mastered not only the game, but himself, earning the respect of the world. Ouimet, a humble caddie who shocked the aristocracy of golf by defeating the finest professionals in the 1913 U.S. Open, showed poise, humility, and strength under pressure. Their matches revealed, in the crucible of eighteen holes, qualities that no boardroom negotiation could ever expose.

The ancients knew this truth well. To them, contests of the body were mirrors of the soul. The Olympians of Greece did not only wrestle for crowns of olive leaves; they wrestled to display virtue—arete—the excellence of character. On the field, in the race, or in the match, the true nature of a man was seen by gods and mortals alike. Rice’s words are but a modern echo of this eternal teaching: that games and trials reveal truth, while daily routine conceals it.

The lesson, then, is clear: seek not only to know others by their words, but by how they bear the weight of struggle. Do they crumble when the putt is missed, or rise to fight anew on the next hole? Do they gloat in victory or stand with grace? These are the questions that reveal whether one’s companion is trustworthy, whether a leader has courage, or whether a friend possesses loyalty. For in contest, masks fall, and the hidden soul steps forth.

What, then, shall we do with this wisdom? First, let us not be deceived by the calm waters of daily dealings. Invite challenge into your life and observe others within it. Work with them not only in comfort, but in difficulty. Second, test yourself in the fires of competition, whether on the field, in the workplace, or in the daily struggles of life. Learn how you react when all seems lost, and discipline your spirit until grace becomes as natural as breath. Third, remember that character is forged not in victories alone, but in how you rise from defeat.

Thus, let Rice’s words live within you: “Eighteen holes of match play will teach you more about your foe than 18 years of dealing with him across a desk.” For life is itself a vast match play, each day a hole, each challenge a test. May you step to each tee with courage, face each hazard with patience, and walk each fairway with honor. In this way, your life too shall reveal a character so steadfast that no mask is needed, and no contest can shake your truth.