In Ancaster, Pennsylvania, at the U.S. Women's Open on Tuesday, Lexi Thompson commanded the attention of all present. The crowd fervently chanted her name, their voices merging into a continuous chorus as they reached out with souvenir flags and selfie requests, their arms extending through the ropeline like determined bayonets aimed directly at Thompson's chest. With each autograph signed and photo taken, the crowd's enthusiasm only seemed to multiply, transforming them into a swelling, ever-changing mass of desire. Despite the overwhelming attention, Thompson harbored a momentary desire of her own—not for the crowd's praise, but to bridge the gap between her world and theirs.
And bridge it she did.
If there's one characteristic the crowds will forever associate with Thompson, it's her extraordinary patience. This patience has sustained her through countless autograph sessions over her 18-year professional career, which she announced would draw to a close at the Solheim Cup in September. It's a patience that has allowed her to form connections with tens of thousands of people beyond the ropes, many of them young women, through simple acts of kindness. And it's a patience that has endured even in the face of golf's most challenging moments—a topic she candidly addressed for the first time during her retirement announcement at the U.S. Women's Open on Tuesday.
"It can be overwhelming being out here," she confessed tearfully. "It can feel isolating. I'm sorry if I get emotional. I didn't plan on it."
I vividly remember witnessing Thompson's remarkable patience for the first time at the 2022 U.S. Women's Open at Pine Needles. Despite falling short once again on one of women's golf's grandest stages, tears streaming down her face, she spent nearly 30 minutes signing autographs, pausing only when every girl in the child-only area had received her attention. And I recalled witnessing it again at the Solheim Cup last September, another heartbreaking defeat, more tears, and yet, a few dozen young girls departing with autographs and smiles.
These scenes felt extraordinary at the time, and this one on Tuesday morning felt no less remarkable, especially given Thompson's announcement of her retirement from full-time play. At just 29 years old, she may be young by professional golf standards, but her 17-year career has been marked by both triumphs and setbacks, leaving her with scars not measured in victories and losses, but in life experiences.
"I think people often underestimate the challenges we face as professional athletes," she remarked. "I won't ask for sympathy. That's the last thing I want. We're pursuing our passion, giving our best every day. We're human."
Thompson's humanity has never been in doubt, but it has come at a price. Despite her popularity among fans, she has had a tumultuous relationship with the public, often criticized for avoiding questions after defeats. Yet, during her retirement press conference, she exhibited none of these qualities.
"I may not have a large circle of friends, but having those who matter most by my side has helped me through the toughest times," she stated. "I think it's true for all athletes. Many don't understand what we endure. The rigorous training and dedication—it's demanding. We deserve more credit than we receive."
Perhaps, after 17 years in the golf spotlight, Thompson has come to terms with her golfing mortality. Or perhaps, she has realized that life continues after the heartbreak fades.
"The most challenging moment of my career was also a blessing because I learned so much and gained unexpected fans," she reflected. "I won't deny that it still hurts. But it's part of the journey."
As Thompson concluded her practice round, encircled by family and fellow competitors, the crowd eagerly awaited her. If this marked the end of her career, she appeared content. She had spent a lifetime searching for something, only to discover that she had possessed it all along—right there on the other side of the ropes.
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