Tee it high and let it fly

golf = life

This is the point at which those of you who hate golf may leave. Either you think, like George Carlin famously did, that it’s an enormous waste of beautiful real estate; or perhaps you think it’s a game for entitled white guys with big bellies. If you feel that way, fair enough. False on both accounts, but OK. This essay won’t do much to dissuade you. If, however, you’re one of the hundreds of millions of people worldwide who have a working love/hate relationship with the game of golf; please indulge me in a little life (and recovery) philosophy.

I’ve played golf for 40+ years. I didn’t take it up really until after college. Dad didn’t play it seriously until he was done with tennis…in his mid-40s. I was a sportsman of the more team-oriented sports like football, basketball, baseball, and Ultimate in my college and post-college years. Throw track and field in the mix as my only true individual sport.

Golf came into my life about the same time skiing did, and both struck me like a thunderbolt. Being out in a natural setting with friends pursuing the improvement of something that required good equipment, physical fitness, and mental fortitude. I was smitten with both.

Golf became an important way for me to spend time with my father. We have traveled near and far together pursuing the best challenges available to us, often with a group of other close friends and their dads. Amazing trips. Neither of my brothers caught the “G” bug for whatever reason. Each of them has their own special bond with dad in some other way. Golf is mine.

The grand old game became business at one point in my career. My friend and partner Mike Billingsley and I started a 30-minute golf magazine show together that is still on the air to this day. Golf Life became a way to pursue the game with professional goals in mind. Funny sidebar about the show. Mike was the producer and often cameraman. I was the writer and the on-air host. I was what they term in the television business “a one take wonder.” When the cameras were set up and rolling, I’d almost always nail the first take. Mike is detail-oriented and always likes to have a couple of takes to work with in the editing room. “Do another,” he’d say. “Why? that was fucking perfect,” would be my tart reply. “Cuz I want one.” That was where I’d struggle.

Funnier still, I had a knack for pulling off shots that were way above my pay grade if the camera was pointing at me. The show’s concept was to showcase a couple of destination resort courses in each half hour. We would enlist the head golf professional or a top instructor to play through a featured hole with me and talk about the course and the amenities. Mike would set up his camera for the perfect scenic shot on the 18th green, or whatever hole it was, to record me and the guest pro hitting a shot into the green. That was my cue. I’d knock it tight…sometimes in the damn hole. I likely couldn’t pull that shot off 2 times out of 10 tries, but with the camera rolling I’d do it first try. It used to make some of the pros laugh. It would infuriate others. One rather large Texas golf pro, upon witnessing one of these moments, erupted; “aww hell no…this is a damn tough hole. I ain’t having you do that shit on the show.” I dutifully put my next approach shot into the greenside bunker.

It would be easy to say to me, “of course you play better golf now that you’re sober.” They wouldn’t necessarily be correct. The truth is that golf is more enjoyable now, and I understand the game’s mental and emotional relevance to my life better now. But “played better?” I played some of my best scoring rounds of golf when I was absolutely hammered. Simple idea: my mind was detached from the outcome. All I could think about at that moment in time was smashing the shot that lay in front of me at that moment. Ben Hogan once famously said, “the toughest six inches of a golf course is the space between your ears.”

Golf, like life, is particularly cruel when you’re not 100% present. Dwell on the past (the last terrible shot) or worry about the future (the score at the end) and you’ll likely struggle with the process of executing in the moment. Every once in awhile you hit and feel a perfect shot…pure contact creates pure joy. One shot in an otherwise crappy round will get you back out there next time. How many days in our lives are like that?

The pros talk about it all the time. “We (the player and the caddy) just focused on putting ourselves in the right position each time, executing each individual shot, and we did that well today. You don’t always win but today we gave ourselves a chance to win.”

Think how challenging the game is for those players at that level, given that;

a. they have to wait interminably on nearly every tee box.

b. the level of expectation they have for their performance.

c. the relentless and tedious practice required.

c. it’s their job.

Granted their rewards for success are extremely lucrative. For most of our recreational hacks out there, golf is a friendly pursuit with perhaps a couple of bucks on the outcome. I’ve seen grown men grind and cry over a missed putt that cost them a quarter.

The game of golf has some unique properties that are both wonderful and maddening. So many others have written about it, that I won’t bore you with historical references about golf, save this one. “Golf is a good walk spoiled.” This quote is often attributed to Mark Twain, or novelist William Gladstone, or H.S. Scrivener. Most likely it came from an anonymous Gael, appearing as a quoted statement in a 1901 newspaper article in Enniscorthy, Ireland.

Walking remains the finest way to pursue the game of golf, allowing time for conversation with your playing mates, forethought regarding the next challenge, and a shedding of the disaster left in your wake. Most modern recreational golfers hurry around the course in a cart loaded with beverages and cellphones and God knows what else.

One of the finest descriptions of golf came from the genius Robin Williams. Check it out on YouTube. It’s one of the damn funniest of his many funny bits. He describes it so cynically and perfectly that golfers and non-golfers alike understand the game’s many idiosyncrasies.

Let’s examine why golf is so metaphorically aligned with life itself. In life and in golf, the following truisms are useful:

You might be involved in some form of competition, but ultimately you play against yourself.

Risk/reward is situational. Sometimes it pays to be conservative, other times you should let the big dog eat.

You should have goals of some kind, but in order to be successful, you must let go of that and commit to the process.

Forget the past. Don’t worry about the future. Focus on the present.

Keep your head down.

One day/one shot at a time.

Accept the things you cannot change. Change the things you can. Understand the difference.

Spending too much time in your noggin will destroy you.

If you take care of yourself, you can thrive into old age.

Be kind to the environment.

Good friendships enhance everything.

Enjoy the scenery along the way.