I don't believe in luck. Not in golf, anyway. There are good

The words of Jack Nicklaus — “I don’t believe in luck. Not in golf, anyway. There are good bounces and bad bounces, sure, but the ball is round and so is the hole. If you find yourself in a position where you hope for luck to pull you through, you’re in serious trouble.” — are not merely about golf, but about the nature of mastery itself. They speak to the eternal truth that excellence is not born from chance, but from discipline, preparation, and the unrelenting pursuit of perfection. Nicklaus, one of the greatest golfers to ever walk the earth, was not rejecting the randomness of the world; he was declaring that true champions rise above it. His words are the creed of the warrior, the artisan, and the thinker alike — those who understand that fate favors the prepared mind, and that reliance on luck is the refuge of the unready.

To understand the depth of this saying, one must first know the man who spoke it. Jack Nicklaus, often called “The Golden Bear,” reigned over golf for decades, winning more major championships than any other in history. His power was not in brute strength or flair, but in the precision of his mind. Every swing was studied, every decision calculated, every stroke born of endless repetition. To him, golf was not a game of chance — it was a dialogue between the human spirit and the natural world. The wind might shift, the ground might yield, yet the true test was how a man responded, not how fortune smiled upon him. When Nicklaus said he did not believe in luck, he was declaring his faith in the sacred virtues of focus, practice, and character — the timeless tools by which mortals carve their immortality.

In his words, “The ball is round and so is the hole,” there is profound symbolism. He reminds us that the world itself is governed by balance and fairness. There will be good bounces and bad, blessings and setbacks, but these are the rhythms of existence. The one who blames fate for failure or credits luck for success misunderstands life’s design. The wise understand that what we call luck is often the meeting of preparation and opportunity. As the ancients said, “The gods help those who help themselves.” To stand before adversity and hope for fortune’s rescue is to admit defeat before the battle begins. The true warrior — in sport, in art, or in life — places his faith not in luck, but in craft.

The lesson is echoed throughout history. Consider Alexander the Great, who faced storms, mutinies, and impossible odds, yet conquered empires not by luck, but by strategy and courage. Or Leonardo da Vinci, who spent years studying anatomy, geometry, and light so that when inspiration struck, his art flowed not from chance, but from mastery. These men, like Nicklaus, understood that greatness is never accidental. Even when fortune seemed to favor them, it was only because they had labored long in silence, forging the skill that made success appear effortless. The lazy man calls the result “luck,” but the wise man sees it as the harvest of effort.

Nicklaus’s warning — “If you find yourself in a position where you hope for luck to pull you through, you’re in serious trouble” — carries the weight of truth for all who seek excellence. It is a call to self-reliance. When one depends on luck, one abandons control of destiny. The athlete who trains poorly and prays for fortune has already lost. The artist who paints without study and hopes for genius deceives himself. The leader who acts without foresight and waits for chance invites ruin. Luck may bless the unprepared for a fleeting moment, but it will never sustain them. The enduring victories of life belong to those who trust in skill, courage, and endurance.

Yet there is humility in his philosophy as well. By rejecting luck, Nicklaus does not claim omnipotence — he simply recognizes the limits of control. He accepts that uncertainty is part of the game, but he refuses to surrender to it. He plays his part with full attention, then releases the outcome to the natural order. This balance — between effort and acceptance — is the essence of wisdom. It is the same spirit found in the Stoics of old, who taught that we must do all that lies within our power and remain serene before what lies beyond it. Thus, to live without belief in luck is not to live without faith, but to place one’s faith where it belongs — in action, not accident.

The lesson that arises from Nicklaus’s words is as timeless as it is practical: do not wish for luck; work for mastery. The craftsman sharpens his tools before the storm. The soldier drills before the war. The student studies before the test. The one who prepares does not fear the roll of fate, for he knows he has done all he can. In every field, from the golf course to the throne, the principle remains the same — rely on your preparation, not on the whims of chance.

So remember the wisdom of Jack Nicklaus: “I don’t believe in luck.” The world is filled with good bounces and bad, but the game is fair, and life is fair enough to reward those who labor for it. Do not seek the favor of luck; seek the strength of excellence. Build your skill until the uncertain becomes certain beneath your hands. And when others wait for chance, you will be ready — calm, capable, and victorious, not by luck, but by the mastery of your own will.