Golf has taught me a lot about patience and keeping my temper.

Scott Moir once confessed with simplicity and wisdom: “Golf has taught me a lot about patience and keeping my temper.” In this statement lies more than a reflection on a sport; it is a meditation on the discipline of the soul. For golf, though it appears a game of leisure, is in truth a mirror of life itself—demanding patience, testing one’s temper, and rewarding not the strongest swing alone, but the calm endurance of the mind.

The origin of these words comes from Moir’s own journey, not only as an Olympic ice dancer but as a man who found in golf a teacher beyond the rink. On the ice, he knew the fiery intensity of competition, the relentless pursuit of perfection, the strain of rhythm and movement. Yet on the green, in the quiet air, he encountered another kind of trial—the slow unfolding of the game, where frustration could cloud judgment and anger could ruin the stroke. There, he discovered the profound need to master his emotions.

History, too, testifies to this lesson. Consider the story of Bobby Jones, one of golf’s greatest champions. In the 1925 U.S. Open, Jones called a penalty on himself for a minor infraction that no one else had seen. When praised for his honesty, he famously replied, “You might as well praise me for not robbing banks.” His greatness lay not merely in skill, but in his patience, temperance, and integrity. He showed the world that golf, like life, is not conquered by fury but by self-control.

Moir’s words remind us that temper is a subtle enemy. In the rush of anger, a single moment can undo hours of labor. In golf, as in life, impatience leads to rash decisions, wasted energy, and regret. But patience brings clarity. It steadies the hand, calms the heart, and transforms frustration into focus. Thus the game becomes not merely a sport, but a sacred training ground for the mastery of the self.

This wisdom reaches beyond the green. In the workplace, impatience can fracture trust. In relationships, temper can wound hearts beyond repair. In leadership, rashness can topple entire endeavors. But those who, like Moir, learn the lesson of patience find strength not in force, but in restraint. The hero is not the one who unleashes his fury, but the one who holds it, reshaping fire into light.

The lesson for all is clear: let every trial—whether in sport, in work, or in love—become a teacher. Do not curse the delays, but embrace them as moments to train your patience. Do not despise the moments of anger, but use them as mirrors to see where your heart still needs mastery. Even small games can reveal great truths, if the soul is humble enough to listen.

Practical actions may be taken: when anger rises, pause and breathe before responding. When impatience tempts you, remember that haste may ruin the long game. Practice patience daily—in the line at the store, in the waiting of children, in the small setbacks of your work. These are not inconveniences, but exercises for the spirit.

Thus, let these words be passed down: golf, like life, is a teacher of patience and temperance. Scott Moir’s reflection is not only about sport, but about the art of living well. For in learning to steady the hand on the green, we also steady the heart in the storms of life. And the one who learns this will walk not only with victory, but with peace.