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We need to talk about something that doesn't get discussed enough in golf: the crushing weight of playing for a living.

From the outside, professional golf looks like paradise. Pristine courses, travel to beautiful destinations, the chance to compete for life-changing money. Who wouldn't want that life? But after nearly 30 years in this industry, I can tell you the reality is far more complicated and often far darker than most people realize.

This week at the RSM Classic, over 150 PGA TOUR players aren't just competing for a trophy. They're fighting for their professional lives. The top 100 in the FedExCup Fall standings earn full playing privileges for 2026. Everyone else gets sent back to the Korn Ferry Tour, Monday qualifiers, or faces the very real possibility of walking away from the dream entirely.

Think about that pressure for a moment. One bad week, one missed cut, one three-putt on Sunday, and your career is effectively over. At least for now.

When Talent Isn't Enough

I've watched incredibly talented players fall through the cracks of this system more times than I can count. Players who can do things with a golf ball that seem impossible. Players who have won on tour before. Players who, on their best days, can compete with anyone in the world.

But professional golf doesn't care about your best days. It cares about consistency, mental fortitude, and the ability to perform when your hands are shaking and your heart is pounding because you know your entire future depends on the next shot.

Matt Wallace sits at 102nd in the standings and needs a solo 43rd-place finish just to crack the top 100. This is a guy who has won multiple times on the European Tour. He's proven he can win at the highest level. But right now, he needs to beat roughly 110 other professionals just to keep his job.

That's not a reflection of his talent. That's just the brutal mathematics of professional golf.

The Mental Health Crisis We're Finally Acknowledging

The pressure cooker of professional golf has real consequences. We've seen it play out in heartbreaking ways this year, from Lexi Thompson's retirement from full-time golf at 29, citing mental health struggles, to the devastating loss of Grayson Murray, who died by suicide at just 30 years old.

Grayson was open about his battles with depression, alcohol addiction, and suicidal thoughts. He had talent that most players would kill for. He had family support, professional help, and financial resources. He had won twice on the PGA TOUR. And still, the darkness won.

His story haunts me because it reminds us that success on the course doesn't immunize you from struggles off it. The isolation of tour life, the constant travel away from support systems, the financial uncertainty of a performance-based career, the relentless pressure to maintain status and meet expectations. It creates a perfect storm for anxiety and depression.

The Playing Professionals and Golf Industry Professionals Who Don't Make Headlines

For every tour player whose struggles make the news, there are dozens and dozens more suffering in silence. The assistant professionals grinding to make ends meet. The mini-tour players living out of their cars. The teaching pros who internalize every student's struggle as their own failure.

I've been one of those people. I've battled anxiety and depression for most of my career in golf. Some days, maintaining a professional smile while dealing with demanding members and unrealistic expectations feels impossible. The long hours, irregular schedule, and pressure to keep everyone happy can take a toll that most people never see.

What This Week Really Means

Over on the LPGA Tour, 60 players are competing at the CME Group Tour Championship for the largest prize in women's golf history. Jeeno Thitikul, the world No. 1, talked about crying after multiple runner-up finishes this year. Even at the top of the sport, the emotional toll is real.

She also talked about setting a goal at 13 years old to take care of her family. That meant sacrificing the university experience she still yearns for. That meant growing up faster than any teenager should have to.

This is the reality of professional golf that doesn't make the highlight reels.

Why Golf is Worth Fighting For

Despite everything I've just written, I still believe golf is worth it. Not because it's easy or glamorous, but because it teaches us things about ourselves that nothing else can.

It teaches us how to handle failure, because in golf, you lose far more than you win. It teaches us resilience, because every bad round is followed by another chance. It teaches us humility because the game will humble you, no matter how good you think you are.

But we need to be honest about the cost. We need to talk openly about mental health. We need to check in on each other beyond asking how someone's game is or how business is going. We need to create environments where asking for help doesn't feel like admitting defeat.

Because playing golf for a living might look like a dream from the outside, but for many, it's a daily battle that requires more courage than most people will ever understand.

If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health issues, please call or text 988 to reach the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. Help is available 24/7.

This article first appeared on Athlon Sports and was syndicated with permission.

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