In Memoriam: Steve Duplantis

Here is the PGA Tour web site story of Steve's death. I invite anyone to share in remembering a fraught, unordinary, and full life.

 

In the film Fight Club, the characters played by Brad Pitt and Edward Norton hopped on an NYC bus and observed an underwear advertisement. Brad Pitt's character proclaimed, "Self-improvement is masturbation. Self destruction is the answer." Angsty, post-modern men go out of their way to search for an absent existential struggle. An easy life is unfulfilling, and easy means boring. When conforming to societal norms and expectations, having trouble find you is not an issue. However, life confronts seekers of meaning with a tough paradox to accept: the necessity of destroying the self created complicitly with the world and refashion it through permanent rebellion.

 

I knew as much about Steve from our acquaintance as I did from stories of his reputation. However, I looked forward to the rare, few occasions I would see him every year. From what I knew and observed of Steve Duplantis, his central conflict was also between pragmatic duties - responsibilities of parenthood, working in high stakes competitive sport - and the thrills of pain through pleasure. He ran simultaneous races, one to the top and one to the bottom. Some burned the candle at both ends, but few have the balls to burn two candles - one from the right end, one from the wrong end - to see which one will the flame will consume first. Unlike the filmic ego-splitting between the real and actualized selves of the two Tyler Durdens, Steve's duality was more prosaic. "Only good when you're in the hunt," was one way I heard him described. "You take a big chance with a whiff, but you have to. What if you're playing good?" is another strange compliment to his abilities. "Stevie, top 5 caddie out here. No question." was probably the best and most accurate. His presence was hugely beneficial. His absence was costly. Professionally, he took chances other caddies would never consider in their wildest dreams.

 

The circumstances of his death are not shocking to anyone initiated to his lifestyle and tastes, but the suitability of his logical end does not make it any less sad. For all his faults, he possessed courage and spirit. He tempted Fates in ways those around him found confusing and counter intuitive. A contemporary Pechorin, he turned much he touched to gold. Within his niche, in his inimitable way, his actions still had purpose, a point. My condolences to his family, his intimate friends, and, above all, his little girl. May she have inherited his special type of will. In pace requiescat.