Somewhere between a 7-iron and a 7 am feeding schedule, it struck me that golf and fatherhood have a lot in common. Both demand patience, both test your temperament, and in both, you can do everything right and still end up in the bunker.

This week, the topic of golfing fathers has been on my mind a little more than usual. Not in a dramatic, announce-it-from-the-rooftops kind of way. Just in that quiet, warm, slightly sleep-deprived way that makes you smile for no apparent reason while tying your shoelaces. Life, it seems, has added a new caddie to my bag. A very tiny one. A baby boy, in fact, who doesn’t carry clubs yet, but already seems to have brought along a mysterious new accessory — hope, perspective… and maybe even a touch of luck.

Because if history is anything to go by, newborns have a funny habit of arriving with magic in their booties.

Scottie Scheffler became a father and almost immediately started collecting trophies as if nappies and night feeds had unlocked some secret swing key. Danny Willett won the Masters in the same season his little boy arrived, playing as if Augusta itself was rocking him to sleep. Rafael Campos lifted his first PGA Tour title just days after his son was born and admitted he felt like he was floating through the week. Even Xander Schauffele, after welcoming his first child, found himself winning on foreign soil, proof that dad strength travels well.

Coincidence? Possibly. Motivation? Definitely. Or maybe newborns really do arrive with a lucky charm tucked into their tiny fists

Golf has always been a jealous companion. It wants your mornings, your evenings, your weekends, your best years, and occasionally, your sanity. Now imagine mixing that with a small human who wants you at 2 a.m., 4........

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