What would we golfers do if we couldn’t get out to whack that little ball around once in a while? I’m sure our blood pressure would be higher, our temperaments more finicky, and that we would find our spouses far less charming. There is no doubt, golf is good. It’s good for us, both for our bodies and brains.
My friend was on the driving range not long ago, banging away at a bucket of balls. She was hours away from the unveiling of a major project, an undertaking in which she had been heavily involved for a long period of time. She is fabulous at her job, having won many major awards and been honored for numerous career achievements. None of that stops her from being a nervous wreck when showtime rolls around. How good it felt, she said, to swing away and free up her mind from all that was about to unfold.
You really can’t think about much else while you’re on the golf course, or even while just nailing a bucket of balls. With a gazillion things to concern yourself - setup, grip, stance, alignment, tempo, timing and swing plane, among other sundries–who could possible find time to worry about something that doesn’t pertain to one’s golf game? Read more…
It has become a rite of spring, a sacred ritual that marks the start of a new season, a fresh beginning. After a year’s engagement, at the end of a long and tedious winter layoff, we join together in the company of friends and celebrate the start of a new tournament season at our local municipal golf course.
The two-person scramble my friend and I play each April is hardly a serious format. Still, we plan ahead from year to year and look forward to the day. We enjoy the tournament to such a degree that when I received an invitation to a friend’s wedding for the same date, I had conflicting emotions. Well, not really. I pretty much knew from the time I ripped open the envelope that golf would win out. Read more…
I will enjoy - and I really mean that, but still use the term loosely - my first competitive match of the season tomorrow. The hallowed tradition of Spring Teams goes on! I tend to suffer a few first tee nerves… tonight, I will lay down to sleep and converse with the golf gods.
Now I Go to Play Some Golf
Now I step to the first tee
Golf gods, please, do comfort me.
If I should take a perfect grip
I’ll make my turn and let it rip.
Now I make my second shot
Golf gods, please, let me shank it not.
If I should make it on in two
My faith in you shall be renewed.
Now I step upon the green
Golf gods, please, give me a read.
If I should roll it in the hole
For a birdie, I would sell my soul.
I picked up a phone call from one of my favorite clients the other day. The first words out of his mouth had nothing to do with business. “Guess what I did today?” he quizzed me. I was so far off base with what I was going to say, I was glad he blurted out the answer before I could get my own words out. “I teed off at Augusta National at eight this morning!” Uh-huh… I would have been a little excited to tell someone, myself.
“The greens were like lightning,” my client said. Ya-huh, I’ll bet, I thought – and they probably hadn’t even been cut that morning, the Monday after the completion of the Master’s golf tournament. Somehow, even considering I might three putt my way around those treacherous greens, this didn’t make me feel much better about the fact that he had played the course and I hadn’t. Read more…
At 11:33 PM on March 31st, it arrived in my in-box, an early April Fool’s joke, courtesy of the USGA. It was my official handicap, fresh out of the computer for the start of a brand new season.
The problem with your beginning of the year handicap is that it is exactly the same as your prior end of the year handicap. Up here in the frozen tundra of a New England winter, not much goes on between November and April. In fact, it is almost like we cease to exist. The USGA deems our winter rounds irrelevant. Truly, if we do not golf, then we simply are not to be.
It’s difficult for most of us to pick up where we left off. Until you get at least half dozen or so rounds under your belt, holding your sticks is like learning cursive writing or getting the hang of coloring between the lines. It sounds pretty simple, but not everyone catches on right away. Read more…
