Groundhog’s Day has past and signs of lush vegetation have popped their heads up in North Carolina, thoughts of pristine greens and fairways ping in a duffers head transporting themselves to a tee time. When a martini tee slides into soil without fear of injuring a wrist and awaiting that glorious feeling of a pure struck ball with a follow through that is immortalized, posing, giving the golf gods their due. But alas, with hibernation and sleep in the eyes a golfer is humbled with the triple bogey and a lost Titlist; eagerly anticipating the chance to par the next hole. To be tested, not against others but the course. Finding gaps, seeing the shot, and maintaining a rhythm with your dance partner is crucial, even if you don’t get to lead.
The game of golf is intoxicating for some and you can see their excitement with the intensity of their body language, whether a Tiger fist pump or a drop of the club and slouch; ‘golly, oh jeez.’ It’s reminiscent of the gym, you can either lift it or can’t. The beauty, that is your home course, doesn’t care about your gender, age, or race, it presents clean-cut on a stunning blue mid-Atlantic day; where the weather is just right for drinking. But is it where the mind goes the body follows or vice versa?
The game will ruin the composure of even the coolest cucumber. A couple shanks off the tee and your setting yourself up for an uphill par 5. A makeable bourbon birdie becomes a tap in par and you can’t quench your thirst. But the par 3 presents equal opportunity employment and you know that hole. Confidence is gained in the mind transferring to the lions in a back swing that follows through without overswinging, head down, and a knowing without knowing. Those wins make it a game worth dedicating mind, body, and soul intertwining to register a scorecard that stands as truth in black and white, real; as the white sphere soars on a light blue background until it softly lands on the new greens. A feeling of not just accomplishment but man with nature.
Personally once I stopped taking any mulligans my game dramatically increased. The chatter of “that wasn’t fair, another,” have disappeared while accepting the challenge of what is pure, a true representation of skill set. Chocking the club like Homer does Bart has been met by a Flanders, Bart, pat on the back, “that a boy.” The driver pauses momentarily with an O-H, I-O and the hips fire with the elbow in, and there is no doubt that ball is in play.
But as the saying goes, “drive for show, putt for dough” is the difference in a descent duffer and a student of the game. Wins and Losses are determined in terms of not yards but feet. Playing 3x’s a week when I caught the disease had me linking up with locals being solo and a man with Rolling Stones tat on his calf gave me the best advice. He said, “your rhythm is off. When you putt take the club back count 1, 1000, 2, 1000, and breathe.” In-addition on 3 I look at the hole as the clubs rescinds and my eyes follow back from the cup gauging the pressure needed to here that clink of ball in hole. On the board, mark it!
Time spent outdoors that usually includes a zoo pass, with like minded buddies, for an extended spell is well worth more than the admission, cost of equipment, and drivetime. Again the day presents itself for redemption, competition, and an expression of a man with an extension of mind and body through hybrids, irons, wedges, and a clean Velocity ready to soar or slow at thy will. A game of strength yes, but not in the sense of power but grace. Piecing together an amazing skate run is on par with the trajectory of what the mind laid out for you to play out.
Just as one pops the tail of a black grip taped board with head down, feet placed appropriately, and anticipating the expected outcome so does the golfer, seeing with a feeling and then letting the experience showcase. Without a team for support one must conjure the strength that they are good enough. And when that light surfaces golf claps, high-fives, and beliefs are reborn. The possibilities on the course our perpendicular to the rest of life. I always have a certainty that I’m going to witness something that’s almost unbelievable and then I do!
A game of gentleman at times it is not but there is something extraordinary about the cat and mouse chase that scratches the itchy. A day calls for a peace of being not just enough but sharpened, sophisticated, and Choice that a duffer seeks can be found on 18 holes of natural landscape blooming in the Spring. Unwrapping the gift of the present authenticates the day in a motion picture even if one feels lost. Fuck it, grip it and rip it!
