With Jordan Spieth, It's the Hope That Kills You

Do you know what the most addictive drug is in America?

I bet you don’t. But here is a hint: It’s not even illegal. It’s not expensive, and you can find it everywhere — in your phone, on your television, in our politics, and in our music. And you can definitely find it in sports.

It’s nostalgia.

Nostalgia is the reason that “Stranger Things” is the most popular show that Netflix has ever made. It’s the reason Disney keeps churning out Marvel movies, despite diminishing creative returns, and live-action remakes of cartoons like “The Lion King” and “The Little Mermaid.” It’s the motivation behind the television reboots of “Scrubs,” “Frasier,” “Sex and the City,” and a half dozen others. Recently, I’ve been obsessed with watching “The Pitt” on HBO. It isn’t a reboot, but it might as well be with how closely it resembles the best parts of ER.

We have become a culture obsessed with the past, one that struggles to embrace new and different experiences.

The phenomenon certainly isn’t new. Paul Simon was lamenting that Joe DiMaggio’s quiet dignity had left and gone away back in 1967, and the concept of nostalgia dates back to ancient Greece. But our addiction to longing for what was, instead of what is, might be worse than it’s ever been at any point in human history.

I am not immune.

I am addicted to the idea that Jordan Spieth will return to prominence, that he will conjure up the magic that made him appointment viewing back in 2015, and that he is just a few tweaks away from transporting us back to the Good Ol’ Days.

This recent story, where the PGA Tour writer Paul Hodowanic sat down with Spieth in the Bahamas and talked with him about how his wrist is finally healthy, gave me hope. Spieth is hungry to get off the sponsor exemption train. He is eager to prove he can still be one of the best in the world. Heading into the Sony, he finally feels like his old self.

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I’m aware, as they say in England, that it's the hope that kills you. It would be healthy for me to move on and appreciate other golfers. Spieth is now 32 years old. His window, even in the most optimistic scenarios, is closing. Arnold Palmer won his last major at age 34. Tom Watson's last major came at age 33. Their accomplishments dwarf Spieth’s, and even they were mostly out of magic by 35. Most days, I can convince myself that Spieth has another 15 years of contention in him, that he could — like Jack Nicklaus, Lee Trevino, Tiger Woods, or Phil Mickelson — be competitive into his 40s. But I know that is probably wishful thinking.

There is a good chance I am longing for a second act that will never arrive.

Not only is Spieth not the player he was 10 years ago, professional golf is different than it was 10 years ago, as my colleague Joseph LaManga is quick to remind me. Fields are deeper, swing speeds are faster, and course setups are more difficult. The harsh reality is, Spieth can’t just summon the player he was back when he was winning majors. He needs to be better than the 2015 version of Spieth that he’s still chasing.

I know I would be better off embracing the next generation of young golf talent, that by holding on to Spieth I am failing to appreciate the great players that might be emerging right in front of me. There will be a round this year when I choose to follow Spieth, notebook in my hand, instead of Michael Thorbjornsen, Marco Penge, Luke Clanton, or Aldrich Potgieter. It won’t make sense, but I’ll do it anyway. That is the trap nostalgia sets. It distracts you from appreciating the present.

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This is the last year I’m going to pray for Spieth’s resurrection. My faith, you might say, is wavering.

But if a few 20-footers start going in again, if he hits a flop shot over a hospitality tent or slings a draw under a tree branch and chases it to three feet, it’s going to be hard to let go of those feelings. We’re headed back to Royal Birkdale this year for the Open Championship. How am I supposed to ignore what it will feel like to return to the scene of Spieth’s magnum opus of chaotic good?

It’s going to be like attending a wedding and stepping onto the dance floor after a few drinks. I don’t want to discover new music. I just want the DJ to play the hits, to fool me into thinking the past isn’t that far gone. I’ll deal with reality in the morning.

In case you missed it earlier this week, Andy Johnson welcomed PGA Tour winner Will Zalatoris to the Fried Egg Golf Podcast! Will discussed his health and returning to competition, but also told some great stories about growing up in Dallas with Jordan Spieth and the money games they play today.