Golf is such a wonderful game. I love it to death.

The trailblazing golfer Charlie Sifford once said, “Golf is such a wonderful game. I love it to death.”
To the unknowing ear, these words may sound simple, even casual — the affectionate praise of an athlete for his sport. But beneath their surface lies a profound truth, one born not of ease, but of endurance, not of privilege, but of struggle. For Sifford, golf was not merely a pastime; it was the battlefield of dignity, the arena where his humanity and perseverance were tested against both the course and the cruelty of men. To say he “loved it to death” was not to speak of comfort, but of a love so deep that it withstood humiliation, isolation, and hatred — a love that endured even when the world tried to deny him the right to play.

The origin of this quote rests in the extraordinary life of Charlie Sifford — the first Black golfer to earn a PGA Tour card, and thus to break the “Caucasian-only” clause that had barred players of color for decades. Born in 1922 in North Carolina, he began his journey as a caddie, watching others play a game he was not permitted to join. Yet even then, he fell in love with the game’s rhythm — the silence between strokes, the patience required to master the craft, the eternal dialogue between human will and the earth itself. He knew that golf, at its heart, was about character — and so he devoted his life to it, even as the fairways he walked were lined not with admiration, but with hostility. To love something that refuses to love you back — that is the noblest form of devotion, and Sifford bore it with unbreakable grace.

When Sifford said he loved golf “to death,” he meant that his love was inseparable from his pain. The game that gave him purpose also demanded sacrifice. As he rose through the ranks, he faced jeers from spectators, threats from rivals, and exclusion from tournaments. There were times when his clubs were tampered with, his path blocked, his very safety endangered. Yet he refused to yield. His love for the game was stronger than the hate that sought to drive him from it. Like a warrior who returns to the field despite his wounds, he played not only to win trophies, but to affirm his right to belong — to prove that the spirit of excellence knows no color.

The ancients understood such love well. In their tales, the heroes were not those who fought only when victory was certain, but those who fought when defeat seemed inevitable — who clung to their purpose despite the darkness. Odysseus endured storms and monsters not for glory alone, but for the love of home. Sifford, too, braved a tempest of prejudice not for riches, but for the love of the game that had claimed his soul since childhood. His journey reminds us that true love — whether for art, truth, or calling — is not the soft affection of comfort, but the fierce devotion that survives suffering.

When at last the barriers fell, and Sifford became the first Black man to compete freely on the PGA Tour in 1961, he did not seek vengeance or applause. He simply played. He walked the same greens that had once rejected him and let his skill speak where words could not. In time, his perseverance earned recognition from those who had once scorned him. He received the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2014, the same honor given to great champions of humanity. Yet even then, his words remained humble — a man still in awe of the game itself, still speaking as one in love. Such is the power of purpose: it turns even hardship into reverence.

The meaning of Sifford’s quote is thus layered and profound. To love something “to death” is to love it beyond reason, beyond fairness, beyond the boundaries of comfort. It is to commit one’s entire being to a purpose that defines the soul. Golf, to Sifford, was both the instrument of his oppression and the path to his liberation. Through it, he showed the world that discipline, patience, and dignity are mightier than prejudice. He proved that when a man walks in truth, no gate can remain closed forever. His love for the game became a metaphor for all who labor in fields that do not welcome them — for all who fight quietly, steadfastly, until history itself must take notice.

So, my child of perseverance, take this lesson from Charlie Sifford’s life and words: love deeply, even when love demands everything of you. Whatever your craft, your cause, your calling — give yourself to it without bitterness. Let hardship refine you, not destroy you. When others tell you that you do not belong, answer them not with anger, but with excellence. Play your game. Walk your course. And remember that true love — for one’s work, one’s purpose, one’s dream — is never easy, but always sacred.

For as Sifford’s life teaches, love and struggle are not opposites, but companions. To love something greatly is to suffer for it, and to suffer for it is to make that love immortal. His devotion to golf was not a mere pastime — it was an act of courage, a testament to the human spirit’s refusal to yield. Thus, when he said, “I love it to death,” he spoke as one who had given his life to his calling, and in doing so, made that calling eternal.