"I'm happy out of my mind. I like beating a lot of people"

A burst of candor runs through the line, mixing euphoria with razor-edged ambition. “Happy out of my mind” captures the unfiltered, almost childlike glee that can seize an athlete when everything clicks, the swing feels weightless, the targets look wide, the body and mind are tuned to the same frequency. It hints at the flow state, where joy isn’t the byproduct of success but the very fuel for it, a spontaneous current that carries performance beyond calculation.

“I like beating a lot of people” strips away sports’ polite fictions. Rather than dressing competition up as a serene battle with oneself, it acknowledges the scoreboard’s blunt truth. In golf, a field isn’t one rival but dozens, sometimes more than a hundred; the satisfaction arises not only from self-mastery but from proving that mastery against a crowd. There’s a gleeful audacity to liking the scale of victory, the bigger the field, the sweeter the validation that one’s work and nerve hold up under pressure.

There’s also a cultural jolt here. Golf often rewards modesty and understatement. A woman stating, without apology, that she enjoys defeating many opponents cuts across expectations that female athletes soften ambition with deference. It’s not cruelty; it’s permission, to want, to aim high, to relish the win openly. For someone who grew up under the brightest spotlight, the sentiment becomes both armor and engine: public scrutiny is easier to bear when desire is clear and unambiguous.

Beneath the brashness lies a clean kind of honesty. Elite sport is zero-sum on the day, and the thrill of victory is inseparable from the field you surpass. The line fuses ecstasy and edge, celebrating competition’s primal charge while challenging norms about how champions should talk. It’s a declaration of joy, and of intent.