Tuesday 24 March 2015

The Agony of False Hope

According to some statistical analysis, with all appropriate nods to Mark Twain, being capable of regularly shooting in the low/mid 80s (& occasionally threaten the high 70s) puts me in the relative elite of amateur golfers. So why are there so many occasions where this notion seems so fanciful?


I will readily admit to struggling with the dichotomy of, if you'll forgive the pun, swinging from near-textbook perfection to abject hackerology, frequently in the space of subsequent (or even during single) holes. This is the root of this blog post - documenting the frustration in the hope, however vain, of progression towards truly taking each shot as it comes.

I have the issue of limited time to get on the golf course, let alone the practice ground, which means I inevitably find myself using early holes to get 'back into it', refamiliarise myself with setup nuances & remember swing thoughts & fixes from previous rounds. Early bogeys are not uncommon - I'd be lying if I said I was accepting of them but, depending on the circumstances, it's often to be expected.

With this in mind, and the fact my scores tend to be anywhere north of 8-over par, an opportunity to get off to a good start will quickly put me into a mindset of 'best score ever' - I opened a very recent round par-birdie-birdie and my thoughts instantly turned to a sub-70 card. Cue a fugly, tree-visiting, triple bogey on #4.

It is this false hope that kills me - the fact that I am more than capable of some remarkably good golf (the first of the aforementioned birdies was a two-putt on a par 4) and, often in extremely close proximity, I can throw in abysmal golf that, if repeated over 18 holes, would mean I'd struggle to break 100.

There is often the reverse situation too - I'm sure I'm not the only part-time golfer who has spent a good three hours hacking & chopping their way around a course, unable to string two decent shots together until, from nowhere, you play a hole - or even just a single shot - in such a way that, for a fleeting, exhilarating, moment, you forget the fact you are battling to stay in double figures for the round.

I've experienced a number of occasions that I have stepped on to the tee with an audience and, despite nervousness, have absolutely nailed one. This could be people waiting to tee off, being let through by a slower group or (just because of the venue) a curious crowd. When this has happened, cue much chest-swellage & a McIlroy-esque swaggering stride down the hole. The perfect antidote to any kind of pretence that I can play this game comes from the almost inevitable outcome of the next shot, especially if I am in position A - a fat approach; a pull into a bunker; a thin through the green.

So, what can I take from this cathartic documenting of my mental torture? How can I get out of this world of false hope? 

A bit more concentration? Maybe.

A bit more - or even some - practice? Not so much.

I feel like I need a smile & an acceptance that, despite any recent evidence to the contrary, I'm more likely to fuck the next shot up than I am to nail it. 

How am I doing in getting to that place? Well, in the words of Tiger Woods - a guy who used to play golf - it's a process.


I am the Part-Time Golfer

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