Ernie Els has had an amazing career. The four time major winner returns to the scene of his first major win this week at Oakmont Country Club.
Els won his first U.S. Open at 24 in a playoff here and has since earned entry into the Hall of Fame. He’s won all around the world and to outsiders looked to have been living a charmed life. He played hard and partied with the best of them.
His large frame and smooth swing earned him the nickname “The Big Easy.” He was The Big Easy, a man’s man, worshiped by his fans. But it turns out not everything was easy for Els.
“At 24, I was way ahead of my time as a golfer,” he said, “but as a man I was nowhere.”
Els is the father of an autistic son, Ben and for many years he was confused about how to be a dad to Ben. But in 2008 after a move to the states Els and his wife Liezl embraced their predicament and dedicated themselves to making life better for Ben and thousands of autistic kids by starting their Els for Autism Foundation.
Born a Libra like his father, Els’s son was slow to crawl, slow to walk, and slow to talk. His bright blue eyes would not meet his father’s adoring gaze. The little evil voice that badgered the Big Easy on the course followed him home. “What did I do wrong?” Els wailed to his wife.
His boy was different, that much was painfully obvious, and soon they would have a diagnosis: autism. It was a word Els and his wife knew only in the context of Dustin Hoffman’s character in the 1988 film “Rain Man.”
“It was hard for him,” Liezl Els said. “I think he just wanted to know, were we in any way responsible for what happened to Ben? He was like: ‘I’m supposed to take care of this family. Where did I mess up?’”
According to the Autism and Developmental Disabilities Monitoring Network at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, roughly one in 68 children in the United States has autism spectrum disorder, representing every racial, ethnic and socioeconomic group.
But many overwhelmed parents of children on the spectrum retreat into the shadows because they feel embarrassment and shame, as if it is a bankruptcy of their sometimes deep investment in a perfect family tableau. The Elses were no different.
“In 1994, we were flying so high, not a care in the world,” Liezl Els said. “But who we are now, this journey from Oakmont to today, that journey was made even more interesting because of Ben.”
She said her husband had undergone the most profound transformation.
“Ernie’s relationship with Ben has gone from, ‘What am I going to do with this kid?’ to ‘When can I spend time with him again?’” she said. “It’s been a beautiful evolution.”
Since then they have opened the Els Center for Excellence, a school for autistic children that is busting at the seems with additions being built as we speak.
Els was a different man in ’94 and now is comfortable with his life and family.
“Whenever somebody asks me about Ben, it’s almost like they want to feel sorry for us,” Els said. “But it’s like with any other family. You’re going to have parents who have a kid with colic or teenagers with their own challenges or something going on. This is just our version of something going on.”
Since the Masters, where his opening 80 doomed his aspirations of playing on the weekend, Els has missed the cut in four of seven starts. It has been a discouraging stretch, with a tie for 14th his only top-25 showing. But his frustrations fall away when he calls or has a video conversation with his family.
His son’s chatter drowns out the little evil voice in Els’s head. Who knew that the Big Easy would be a nickname that better describes the son than the father?
“When I’m around my boy, or talking to my boy, I change,” Els said. “I just go in his world. I’m kind of at peace because I’m listening to my boy being himself.”
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