The Easter Bunny, Bernhard Langer and Nice Guys Who Don’t Finish Last

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My boys are 6 and 7, and I wonder if the gig is up. They have become quite good at manipulating old dad, and the fact that the Easter Bunny tends to show up about four times a year (Easter itself, but also Christmas, randomly in Churchhaven, and even around springtime in Plett) speaks to the success of their efforts. It’s a year-round garden chocolate extravaganza at the Geldenhuys household. But AJ has let slip that he no longer actually believes in the Easter Bunny, but he still likes the goodies. I’ll let it ride one more year, but then I’ll put my foot down. I promise.

Easter, of course, is about other things than mystical rabbits and sugar-rush garden treasure hunts. It is about remembering the foundations of the Christian religion, it is about honouring the idea of sacrifice and redemption, and it’s about acknowledgement that we are all deeply flawed, and we need to accept all the help we can get.

I define myself as Agnostic: Spiritual but not necessarily religious. A fan of the base tenets of particularly Christianity, but respectful of the positive elements of all the other belief systems. And I do like to talk to people about where it all lands for them, and why, especially on long walks.

A few years ago I walked the Camino. A random gentleman at the end talked to me about decoding my feelings around the experience in terms of Grace. I felt myself slightly at sea on how to decode his words, and I had turned to my buddy, the Internet to help with guidance. Googling it gave several definitions.

“The unearned, unmerited favour of God.”

OR

“Elegance of movement, courteous goodwill, or a disposition to be generous and forgiving.”

I think it is kind of cool that we don’t need to earn God’s favour. I also sometimes wonder if it doesn’t allow us a get-out-of-jail-free card that is often abused. The second quote feels like a generally agreed-upon definition regardless of religious ideology, and I decided to ask the illuminati at ChatGPT for further unpacking in terms of leadership. And here are the results:

Grace in Leadership:

1. Responding, not reacting.

A graceful leader doesn’t flare up in stress or conflict. They pause, breathe, and respond with perspective. Grace is the space between the trigger and the action.

“Leadership is not about being the loudest in the room. Sometimes, it’s about being the calmest.”

2. Forgiveness and second chances.

Graceful leaders understand that people make mistakes. They correct with dignity, not shame.

“You don’t lose authority by showing grace. You earn trust.”

3. Humility in success.

They deflect praise and share credit. They know their power but don’t need to display it.

“Grace says: I could – but I don’t need to.”

4. Tough decisions, soft heart.

Grace doesn’t mean avoiding hard truths. It means delivering them with empathy. Firing someone? Do it kindly. Giving feedback? Be firm and human.

“Grace in leadership is truth wrapped in empathy.”

5. Modelling calm under pressure.

A graceful leader is a steadying force. When others panic, they anchor the room.

“Grace holds the torch when the lights go out.”

Hell, doesn’t this feel a lot like every single thing that gets said about Springbok coach Rassie Erasmus? About most widely respected and revered leaders, really?

I have been a bit obsessed these last few months. So much so that I’ve decided to turn my obsession into my new book. The focus of my fancy: Golf’s Ryder Cup.

Caroline and I are going to New York in September to watch this incredible contest between Europe and the US. There is so much history, drama and spice to this 100-year-old cross-continental conflict, and the current geopolitical context gives it a whole new layer.

In diving deep into podcasts, books, autobiographies, interviews and articles that unpack the heroes, villains and unlikely harbingers of change of the past, a few names stood out. And they are familiar. Nicklaus. Jacklin. Ballesteros. Watson. Faldo.

And amongst these titans of the game, men who not only dominated as individuals but left a lasting impact on the team sport, one hero presented himself as an embodiment of the grace in leadership I described before.

His name is Bernhard Langer.

Last week, the German golfing legend made his final playing appearance at the US Masters, an event he won twice in the 80s and 90s as part of an invading army of Europeans that would shift the balance of power with the United States. He is 67 years old, and in 2025, he has played or beaten his age 3 times on the Champions Tour.

My mom told me about him as a kid. She saw him live, as he was a regular ‘80s visitor to the Million Dollar Golf Challenge, the South African tournament in the then-tribal homeland of Bophuthatswana. It was a hotelier Sol Kerzner’s masterstroke, an event that would draw the best in the world to the Gary Player design course for a matchup between champions. Gary Player, a global icon, could use his influence to draw his friend and protégé Seve Ballesteros, and the rest would follow, despite the destructive Apartheid narrative. She described him as a true gentleman, a player of grace and ability who won the hearts and minds of spectators all over the world.

By the time I was old enough to pay attention, Apartheid was done. When I finally saw Langer live myself in the mid-90s, I was taken aback by how small he was. This giant of the game, in the flesh, was not an intimidating presence. But oh he could play, and even my immature 20-year-old self could appreciate the grace he radiated, even if his putting had gone completely south.

Langer’s putting. It would come to define his playing career. The long-stemmed putter that would save him from the dreaded yips, now ridiculously outlawed in golf. He was, at times, the best you ever saw. But he is not remembered for that. He is remembered for the one he missed.

It was in 1991, at Kiawah Island in the United States. For context, the USA had not won the Ryder Cup in 8 years. They were, however, coming off a successful military campaign in the Middle East spearheaded by Stormin’ Norman Schwarzkopf. Military might was back in fashion, the US was taking down the bad guys… and Europe was next. The European invasion would be squashed by their golfing heroes in what would become known as the “War on the Shore”, and golf would never be the same again.

I watched this live, and it was EPIC. Over three days, the two teams, filled with stars, traded blows. There was Ballesteros and Olazabal, Azinger and Kite, Couples and Strange, Irwin and Floyd. It was a clash of the titans, played on an impossible course completely swamped by overzealous camo-panted drunken fans. The Europeans had for too long held a monopoly on partisan home crowds, and the Americans were catching up. If it felt like war, well, that’s how many saw it. Golf had never seen anything like it.

Three days of drama, insults and acrimony. You couldn’t make this sh*t up. The fates even complied, matching up mortal enemies Azinger and Ballesteros TWICE in the pair contests. And it came down to the most thrilling of finals: The last putt on the last day on the last hole. The combatants: Hale Irwin, the winner of multiple US Opens, in the Red corner. In the European Blue, Bernhard Langer. The gentle German, the 1985 Masters champion, a former world no 1 and the safest pair of hands you could imagine. They came down to the last hole all square. Off the tee, Irwin hooked his drive while Langer drove down the middle. Miraculously, inexplicably, American Irwin’s ball bounced off a spectator and rebounded straight to the middle of the fairway. He could no better than a bogey even with that bit of spectator-assisted luck, leaving it to Langer to seal a win with a short putt. Langer, famously, missed. It was over. The US had regained the Cup, and the German was the man who had crumpled under the pressure. Inconsolable, Langer trundled off to the changing room, having disappointed his team, his country, his continent.

It is a measure of the man that he bounces back, a week later, to win the German Masters. He would go on to win again and again, another Masters in 1993, and many more tournaments over a storied career that would extend for over 30 years. He would serve as a player in one more losing side… but that was it. As far as the Ryder Cup was concerned, he learned valuable lessons that day, and his future involvement, in 95, 97, 02 and as Captain in 04, would be to inspire his team to victory.

Langer had a way of turning tragedy into triumph. That putt forced him to reflect, to work harder. He was not picked in 1999, and from a distance, he could observe the tactical errors made by captain Mark James, especially in the way he mismanaged his players, especially the rookies. When it was his turn to captain in 2004, he led his charges with a steely glove laced with velvet, and his delicately tuned micro-management coupled with exceptional EQ resulted in a complete rout, the Europeans winning all the sessions in a record fashion. Langer bet big on his rookies, gave them enough confidence to deliver, and reaped the results.

One last thing. 93 was different from 85. In the years between the two, he had been born again, and the 93 victory felt very different, amongst other reasons, because he secured a dominant victory on Easter Sunday.

Cheers to a legend. Sometimes good guys don’t finish last. In fact, some good guys just seem to keep on winning…

PG’s Pro Tip:

When you get klapped hard, take a moment. Then take the lesson, get stronger, and keep on going. Oh, and I know it’s hard. I like the sulk as much as the next guy. But legends are defined by their ability to shake it off. Just ask Bernhard Langer. Or Taylor Swift.

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