AUSTIN, Texas -- Jason Day sat down in the chair on the left side of the interview room dais here at the WGC-Dell Technologies Match Play Championship, the one usually reserved for players answering questions about their success. This wasn't one of those times. He looked out toward the awaiting throng of reporters and cameras, but the words just wouldn't come.
"Yeah, obviously it's not an excuse or anything like that. ..."
Just minutes earlier, Day had conceded his opening-round match against Pat Perez. After losing three of the first six holes, he simply walked off the golf course, unable to continue playing. Now he was here to explain why. But he couldn't.
"My back is fine, I'm 100 percent healthy. ..."
That was an initial concern. The former No. 1-ranked player has a famously balky back, one which has forced him to withdraw from a handful of events over the past few years.
"Everything is totally fine. ..."
Everything wasn't. This much was clear. Tears streaming down his face, Day struggled to compose himself. He tried to speak. Again, the words wouldn't come. He wiped his eyes, which were already turning puffy and red. When he finally could speak, he told every person in the room what they already knew.
"It's hard to talk right now."
Over the next several minutes, Day explained that his mother, Dening, had been diagnosed with lung cancer at the beginning of this year. He explained that she'd been given 12 months to live, that he recently brought her from Australia to the United States in order to receive treatment, that she was scheduled for surgery this Friday.
He didn't just state the facts, though. He said all the right things.
He spoke about how emotional he'd become over her illness. He spoke about needing to be with her for that surgery. He spoke about the profound impact that she has had on his career.
"She is the reason," he said, "that I'm playing golf today."
One day earlier, Day sat in that very same chair and spoke about last year's victory at this event and how another strong outing could springboard him toward a laudable performance in two weeks at the Masters Tournament, an event that has always been his favorite. He even joked about staying at the nearby house of fellow player Nick Watney this week, with a plan of eating pizza, drinking Mountain Dew and playing "Call of Duty" every night.
None of that seemed to matter now.
There's no telling when, or why, or how, a family issue like the one facing Day will strike a person the hardest, but for whatever reason, that didn't happen before this tournament or during the warmup session for his round. It happened when he was already on the golf course, perhaps when he was at his most vulnerable, walking alone down the fairways with nothing to keep him company but a loyal caddie and his innermost fears.
And so, he did what so many of us would do in a similar situation. Unable to do his job, he walked away from it without giving a reason. He didn't even tell Perez, but think about it: Would you inform a coworker about your sick mother in the hospital? Or would you just leave, confident in knowing it was the right decision on a personal level?
Day's position as a world-class professional golfer places him in the public eye, but it doesn't disqualify him from the same anxiety that anyone else would feel. Surely, he wishes this anxiety had occurred somewhere less exposed, just as he wishes he didn't have to deal with it at all.
Now he's dealing with it publicly, telling the world why he conceded his match and withdrew from the tournament and will fly home to Ohio to be with his mother.
"I just need some time away with her to make sure that everything goes well," he said. "I'm going to try and be there the best I can for her."
He wiped his eyes once more, tears still streaming down his cheeks.
"Family is first. It's just a hard time."
He stepped out of the interview room. His wife, Ellie, was waiting outside. They embraced, tightly, each enduring the kind of shoulder-heaving sobs always left for these types of moments. Then they walked toward the parking lot, hand in hand, his eyes growing more puffy and red the whole way.