What Tom Brady Doesn't Understand

Success has a strange way of exposing what we value most.

This summer, two titans of sport—Scottie Scheffler and Tom Brady—publicly revealed how they think about winning, work, and family. One is basking in championship glory with his wife and infant son at his side. The other is reflecting, post-divorce, on whether chasing greatness cost him too much.

Scottie Scheffler just won the British Open. In the moments after sinking his final putt, he didn’t soak up the spotlight or stroll around in victory. He walked straight to his wife Meredith and their baby boy. “I love you very much,” he told them in front of the world. “I can’t wait to get home and celebrate.”

That moment said everything.

Scheffler doesn’t just win. He knows what matters more than winning.

In interviews that week, he repeatedly emphasized the same priority order: “Faith first. Family second. Golf third.” He made it clear: if golf ever started to interfere with his home life, “that’s gonna be the last day I play out here for a living. I would much rather be a great father than a great golfer.”

Let that settle in. At the peak of his profession, Scheffler is willing to walk away from it all—not because he’s soft, but because he’s strong enough to know what’s worth protecting.

Tom Brady sees it differently.

In his newsletter, Brady responded to Scheffler’s quote. “Scottie said he’d rather be a better father and husband than a good golfer. My question is: why are those mutually exclusive?” Brady argued that being a great competitor and being a great dad go hand in hand. “I chose to do it by playing football,” he said. “That was the best possible thing I could do for my family.”

To be clear, Brady’s not wrong to value hard work. He’s right to believe that dedication can set a powerful example for kids. The problem is how far he took it.

In 2022, Brady retired to spend more time with family, then un-retired 40 days later. Within months, his 13-year marriage ended. His wife Gisele had long said she wanted him home more. She paused her career to raise their children while he kept playing into his mid-40s. Eventually, she said, “He needs to do what fulfills him, too.” But her voice wasn’t enough to change his mind.

Brady insists he put family first by working harder than anyone else. But love and football have a common prerequisite—time. And we only have so much to give. What Brady may not understand is that presence matters more than provision. No child will remember the hours we spent at the office. They’ll remember whether we showed up for dinner, for practice, for the messy moments in between.

Brady believed his work was love. In some ways, it was. But it wasn’t enough to save his marriage.

Scottie Scheffler is choosing a different path.

He’s still competing at the highest level. Still training. Still winning. But with open eyes and a grounded sense of self. When asked about what fulfills him, he’s quick to say it’s not the trophies or praise. “Having success in life, whether it be in golf, work, whatever it is—that’s not what fulfills the deepest desires of your heart.”

He knows where real meaning lives: in relationships. In faith. In family. And he’s not just saying it. He’s living it.

There’s a subtle difference in how these two men see the world. Brady built his life on performance. Work gave him identity. Football wasn’t just a job, it was who he was. Scheffler doesn’t see it that way. “Golf is not who I am,” he says. “It’s just something I do.”

That shift changes everything. If my identity is tied to my job, I’ll sacrifice anything to succeed. I’ll justify the late nights, the absent dinners, the missed milestones. I’ll tell myself I’m doing it for them—even as they slip further away.

But if my identity is rooted in something deeper—faith, marriage, purpose—then work finds its rightful place. It becomes a way to serve my family, not replace them.

Here’s the hard truth for every husband and father: your career will not come to your funeral. Your trophies won’t hug your grandchildren. Your resume won’t hold your hand when you’re old and sick.

Your wife will. Your kids might. But only if they know they mattered more than the work.

Scheffler’s not perfect. Neither is Brady. Neither are we. But their contrast offers a lesson every man needs to hear: marriage must come first.

Not eventually. Not when the season ends. Not when the big deal closes. First.

That doesn’t mean giving up excellence. It means defining success differently. Not as the applause of strangers, but the intimacy of home. Not as being the GOAT, but being a good man, a faithful husband, a present father.

Let’s be honest. Prioritizing marriage takes courage. It requires saying “no” when culture cheers “yes.” It means resisting the lie that your value is found in the size of your paycheck or the fame of your name.

And sometimes, it means walking off the course (or field), even when you’re winning.

Because no victory is worth a fractured family. No spotlight is bright enough to replace the glow of a healthy home. And no achievement lasts longer than love.

Tom Brady will always be remembered as a champion. But ask him privately, and he might say what many high performers eventually learn: it’s possible to win in public and lose in private.

Scottie Scheffler is showing us another way. One where you can win—and still go home whole.

Let’s follow his lead.

Make your career serve your marriage. Not the other way around.

You’ll never regret the wins you share with your family.

But you might regret the ones you celebrated alone.

Every couple fights, whether they call it that or not. There are moments in every relationship when tensions are high and a feeling of disconnection is real. This week on the podcast we talk about How To Fight Fair. Implement the four ideas presented in this talk and it will improve your relationship.

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