"No 1 Cares What You Shot": The Madness of Comparison

"Ambition and insecurity are very human qualities. But too much of both can make for a toxic mix, and lead to competing with others in an unhealthy fashion. Trust me."

A friend of mine whom I’ve played golf with for many years showed up at breakfast one morning and presented me with a new black cap. Embroidered on the front of it was the following sentence:

NO 1 CARES WHAT YOU SHOT

I roared with laughter, because we both knew why he’d bought it for me: It’s a philosophy I’ve repeated again and again.

For non-golfers, let me break this down. Golf is a difficult and often maddening sport. It’s also social, so players get together at the “19th Hole” after a round and have a few pops and some laughs. They also ask others who were in different groups: “How’d you play?”

But the truth is that no one cares very much about the answer. And a very long one can reflect a much deeper obsession with a player’s own score comparative to others: “If I only did _____ on the __th hole and then if this didn’t happen on the __th hole, I would have shot, oh, my God…” It can be a tedious experience for the listener.

By the way, nearly every golfer does this on occasion. I’m no different. But the bottom line still stands: The person who cares the most about any golf round — by far — is the player who played it.

Obviously, the “no one cares what you shot” mantra is not just an inside joke between my friend and me; it’s prevalent enough for someone to sew it onto hats and sell them. But inside that phrase lies a larger point about how we live our lives — and the futility of making comparisons with others.

Everyone honks their own horn at one point or another. Some of us are quite comfortable at it. For others, it’s excruciating. But there are many occasions, especially in people’s professional lives, where communicating what you’ve done and what you’re capable of doing is an imperative. Ask a headhunter. Or a salesperson. Or a politician.

There’s a danger zone, though, whenever one is considering or communicating their accomplishments: It’s the comparison thing. Most people, especially those who are extremely ambitious and/or insecure, can fall into the trap of competing with other folks to an unhealthy degree. Of measuring the “bio in their head” against others.

I know, because I’ve done it. I probably still do from time to time, without even noticing.

The truth is that I like winning. A lot. I was always a competitive kid, and as I got older, I also accrued some harmful insecurities. This can be a toxic mix.

Whether it was being nominated for awards as a journalist or trying to win political campaigns or build startups, I was always desperate to succeed. Of course, there are parts of these conquests that are natural and healthy; we all want our sweat equity to lead to positive outcomes. And sometimes we are gratified when we receive recognition.

But the minute I started to compare myself with others or touted my own achievements when someone asked any question in that vicinity, it led to a negative place. People don’t want to hear the “extended play” version. Much as they don’t want to hear a detailed narrative about your golf round.

Also, while we may be matching up our scores — or lives — against others’, a lot of those others are not. They’re living their lives. Again, no one cares what you shot.

The silliest aspect of doing the comparison thing is that it’s a truly pointless exercise. There will always be someone else who has received more accolades, earned more money, has more influence, etc. Measuring oneself against others based on these vanities is like racing a car down a dead-end road.

Just one caveat on the “no one cares what you shot” doctrine: Exceptions abound. Like most things we do in life, finding that comfortable place of balance is the key — it is the definition of The Golden Mean. And knowing your audience is the essential ingredient to almost every social situation.

So unless I’ve got a really, really interesting story to tell you about my golf game (or other self-involved stuff), it’s two sentences and I’m out…

…until the next time I forget and launch into a sprawling ramble. After all, self-knowledge is a practice.

MICHAEL GOLDEN is a 7 handicap who laments the fact that he is no longer a 6 (mostly silently). He is also the cofounder of One Million Degrees and the author of STAYING ALIVE.

---