By Dr Coen Welsh. *
Most golfers know that small sinking feeling of a short putt sliding past the hole. In October 2026, Madeleine Zang knew it too, and she knew it at St Andrews. A senior at the University of Pennsylvania, she was competing in the St Andrews Links Collegiate, an annual event that brings American university teams to the Home of Golf to play against the University of St Andrews.
On Tuesday 13 October, the second day of the competition, she missed a short bogey putt on the Jubilee Course. As she walked up to tidy away the next one, a gust caught the ball, pushed it back across the green and dropped it into the cup. A double bogey became a bogey, and Golf Channel’s cameras captured a clip that was soon watched by millions.
It is a delightful moment, and most of us smiled when we saw it. Yet it also invites a more serious question about how we understand the conditions that shape our results.
The same wind blows on everyone:
The wind that helped Zang was not reserved for her. On the same day, a Texas player watched his approach shot drift about fifteen yards left in mid-air, and another competitor faced a 30-foot putt that was said to be closer to 60 feet into the breeze. The same wind, blowing across the same course on the same afternoon, produced very different outcomes for the players who encountered it.
Golfers are taught to play the ball as it lies, and most of us think of that principle when our ball has come to rest somewhere awkward, perhaps in a divot or deep in the rough. The idea is broader than that. It asks us to accept the conditions as they are and respond to them honestly. Sometimes those conditions hinder us, and occasionally, often when we least deserve it, they help.
Work and life follow the same pattern. A buoyant economy can make an ordinary strategy look clever, while a supportive manager can make a difficult year bearable. In the same way, an unexpected change in the organisation or a period of poor health can undo months of careful preparation through no fault of our own. Very little of what we achieve happens in still air.
Be honest about the tailwinds:
In my work as an Industrial and Organisational Psychologist, one of the most consistent patterns I see is how differently people explain success and failure. When things go well, we tend to credit our ability and effort, but when they go badly, we look to circumstances. Psychologists call this self-serving bias, and nearly all of us are prone to it.
The economist Robert H. Frank explores this tendency in Success and Luck: Good Fortune and the Myth of Meritocracy, published in 2016. He does not dismiss talent or hard work, which in most fields remain essential. His argument is that successful people consistently underestimate how much chance contributed to where they ended up, from the circumstances into which they were born to the well-timed opportunity that happened to come their way. In competitive settings, where many capable people are separated by narrow margins, a modest piece of good fortune can decide who comes out on top, and its benefits then tend to compound over a career.
Zang’s putt makes the point with unusual clarity, because the stroke itself clearly missed and yet the result was a good one. Had she claimed the wind as part of her plan, everyone watching would have laughed. In organisations, the distinction is rarely so visible. Leaders who reached targets in favourable markets are sometimes promoted for skills they were never required to show, while capable people who held a team together in a storm can be overlooked because the numbers were disappointing.
Good judgement separates the quality of a decision from the quality of its outcome. A fortunate result does not prove that the stroke was sound, and an unlucky bounce does not mean that the decision was poor. Learning to tell the difference makes us fairer to others and more honest with ourselves.
Gifts we did not earn:
The idea is far from new. In his letter, the apostle James observed that every good and perfect gift comes to us from beyond ourselves, from a source steadier than shifting shadows. On a links course, where the wind can change considerably from one hour to the next, the contrast is easy to appreciate. Much of the good we enjoy arrives from somewhere other than our own effort, and recognising this changes how we carry our success.
Frank reaches a similar conclusion from a very different starting point. People who recognise the part good fortune has played in their lives tend to become more grateful, and grateful people tend to be more generous to others and more willing to invest in the common good. A break that falls our way then becomes something to receive with thanks rather than to claim as entitlement, and it softens our judgement of colleagues whose results were shaped by a harder wind.
When the wind is against you:
Not every gust carries the ball to the hole. Many of us are currently playing into a stiff headwind of some kind, and it can be hard to believe that anything good is coming our way at all.
There is another line of reasoning, found in the book of Matthew, that draws on ordinary family life: if imperfect parents still know how to give good things to their children, how much more might generosity be found when we are willing to ask. It does not promise that we will get whatever we want, or that the weather will always turn. It does suggest that asking is not a sign of weakness, and that help is often closer than we assume.
There is real relief in recognising that we do not have to control the wind to be supported in it. We can name our needs honestly, accept help from the people around us, and continue to play the next shot with as much skill and patience as the conditions allow.
Playing whatever blows this week:
Zang still had to finish the hole and play the rest of the round, because the wind had given her a gift but could not play the next shot for her. Living with that balance, grateful for help and responsible for what comes next, takes practice. A few places to start this week:
• Name one tailwind. Think of a recent success and write down what helped it happen beyond your own effort, and then thank at least one person who played a part in it.
• Treat yourself as you would a friend. When something goes wrong, ask how much was the stroke and how much was the wind. Self-compassion is not about letting yourself off the hook, but about speaking to yourself with the same fairness you would offer a colleague, so that you can learn rather than simply criticise.
• Ask about the conditions before judging the score. When someone in your team falls short, start with curiosity about what they were dealing with that you could not see. A difficult result often looks different once the weather is understood.
• Hold compassion and accountability together. Leaders know that things happen that nobody could control, yet the scorecard still stands and a dropped shot is still counted. Good leaders acknowledge the conditions honestly, help people own their part in the result, and then agree on what will be done differently. Understanding is not the same as excusing, and accountability does not require harshness.
• Ask for help in your own headwind. Identify one area where you have been struggling on your own, and invite someone in to help.
The conditions will change again, sometimes in our favour and sometimes not. Give thanks for the breaks you did not earn, be patient with yourself and others in the headwinds, and then walk to the next tee and play the shot in front of you.
About the Author
Dr Coen Welsh is an Industrial and Organisational Psychologist, leadership development practitioner and author of the forthcoming book, On the 8th Day God Created Golf. Outside his professional work, Coen is an enthusiastic golfer who enjoys exploring the lessons that the game, often unexpectedly, offers about work, leadership and life.
AI disclaimer: This article was written with the assistance of artificial intelligence. The final content was reviewed, edited and approved by the author, who also checked the information and facts presented.
