I’m sorry, but there will be no apologies here.

Yes, I realize that it has only been a week or so since I wrote a piece asking why mainstream sportswriters ignore the spiritual component in global-level events — even when the winner at the press-conference microphone openly discusses the role that faith plays in his life. Here’s that previous post: “What happened when this 2022 Final Four hero was asked to explain his heart, mind and soul?”

To add insult to injury, that post even opened with me waving a non-apology flag:

OK, faithful GetReligion readers, you know the drill.

Especially those of you who are among the small circle of our readers who join millions and millions of ordinary Americans in caring about sports news and personalities.

Why keep writing about this issue? Frankly, I think this is one of the biggest signs (and there are many) of the gap between elite journalists and ordinary people (sports fans included) in flyover country. The key, once again, is this journalism question: When probing what makes a superstar tick, why not heed what this athlete says when asked questions about precisely that question?

This time around, we are talking about the Masters and young Scottie Scheffler’s stunning rise to become the No. 1 ranked golfer in the world. Facing the world’s press, he offered this response to a question about his goals and motivations:

“The reason why I play golf is I’m trying to glorify God and all that He’s done in my life,” he said. “So for me, my identity isn’t a golf score. Like Meredith told me this morning, ‘If you win this golf tournament today, if you lose this golf tournament by 10 shots, if you never win another golf tournament again,’ she goes, ‘I’m still going to love you, you’re still going to be the same person, Jesus loves you and nothing changes.’ All I’m trying to do is glorify God and that’s why I’m here and that’s why I’m in this position.”

As one would expect, that is a quote from a story at the religion-market Sports Spectrum website.

Meanwhile, the Associated Press offered the vast majority of American news consumers this story: “Scheffler’s journey to the Masters a true family affair.” This perfectly valid story contains all kinds of details about the close knit and very athletic family that backed Scheffler in his journey to the PGA Tour.

Consider this interesting material from his stay-at-home father:

Scott Scheffler made it a point to make sure his kids were well-rounded. While stressing “I’m no guru,” he pointed out how vital it was to make sure Scottie didn’t focus on golf all the time. …

Yet Scottie was hardly the only athlete in the family. Callie Scheffler played at Texas A&M and served as Scottie’s caddie when he qualified for the 2016 U.S. Open at Oakmont as an amateur, and Molly and Sara are players, too.

While Scott Scheffler laughingly admitted, “Schefflers have their issues, but they’re good people,” he grew more serious when asked what the world needs to know about the unassuming 25-year-old board game aficionado who is now the hottest golfer on the planet.

“He’s just a nice young kid,” Scott Scheffler said. “Born in New Jersey and raised in Texas. He’s got a little bit of both, which is wonderful. Just our son and Meredith’s husband and now I guess he’s the world’s.”

Like I said: That’s valid. That’s good stuff.

However, this AP story contains zero references to the role of Christian faith in this home — no matter how open the Schefflers are about that fact.

How about USA Today, with a story — “Scottie Scheffler: The making of a Masters champion“ — care of Golf Week? What “made” this guy the man that he is?

Obviously, the famous golf teacher Randy Smith played a major role:

Scheffler’s parents reportedly borrowed $50,000 to join Royal Oaks so Scottie could work with Smith, who had coached Leonard to a British Open title in 1997. From the first swing, Smith realized that Scheffler possessed a rare gift.

“He had a savant-like quality the way he went about things. He did things the other kids didn’t do,” he said. “I’ve seen other kids with pretty swings hit the ball far and all that, but everything Scottie did was tied to hitting to a target. He could shape it both ways at a target. He’s a sponge. He picked up all this information from all the pros at Royal Oaks and absorbed everything.”

Again: This is valid material. And, once again, there is zero information here about Scheffler’s statements about the role that his faith plays in his marriage, his family and his work.

Maybe ESPN included the long, long press-conference quotes that the Masters’ winner offered about his faith? That personality profile is here: “Masters 2022 -- 'I don't think I'm ready for this' but Scottie Scheffler has a green jacket to show he was.”

This is a long story, with lots of room for nuance.

Discerning readers can even sense that this rocket rise to fame has created a mind of inner crisis — a spiritual crisis, maybe — for this young man. This is the long overture:

Fifteen minutes after Scottie Scheffler won the Masters, a golf cart rushed him to the back door of Butler Cabin. The only sounds came from a drone circling overhead and a few birds. His green jacket waited inside. He looked dazed. Of course he did. In the past 57 days, he won four tournaments, including a major, and changed everything about his life. He can't ever go back to the way things used to be.

He's 25 years old. This season he's made $10 million. Inside the cabin he slipped that jacket on for the first time -- taking it off so he could repeat the ceremony in front of a crowd waiting for him around the 18th green -- and after finishing an interview, he came back outside. He still looked a little dazed and enjoyed a few long seconds of silence until he came back into view of the patrons, who started cheering and clapping.

"I don't really know what to say ...," he said.

He broke down and cried this morning -- "like a baby," in his words --feeling just overwhelmed with the moment: One round of golf to win the Masters, and the tornado which can take over a life after something like that. He's seen it hit people he knows. ... He turned to his wife in tears.

"I don't think I'm ready for this," he told her.

So what does Scheffler — the man himself — helps him cope with all of this?

Or how about his wife, Meredith?

The Golf Channel feature did include this tiny hint, way down in the body of its report: “A good cry, a good talk and a great wife help Scheffler find peace on way to Masters win.”

…. (This) was different. It always is with the Masters. Before whipping up a big breakfast, Meredith gave her husband a pep talk. They were college sweethearts in Texas, tying the knot in December 2020, when Scottie was just 24. They’re still very much in the newlywed phase, but it’s clear that she also knows how to unlock Scottie’s greatness. “She told me, ‘Who are you to say that you are not ready? Who am I to say that I know what’s best for my life?’” Scheffler said. “We talked about that God is in control and that the Lord is leading me. And if today is my time, then it’s my time.”

Let me sum this up, again. The question is not whether journalists should INSERT religion into a story about an event of this magnitude. The question is why journalists feel the need to edit faith material OUT of these kinds of stories if some athletes — when asked to explain What. Makes. Them. Tick — openly and consistently discuss the role that religious faith plays in their lives.

It’s almost like, you know, these journalists just don’t GET IT.

FIRST IMAGE: “The missing piece,” an illustration at MIT Sloan Management Review website.