Joe Wilkins, Copyright © 2014
“I don’t know why anyone plays such a silly game! All you do is knock a little ball around in a field until you get it in a hole. What’s the big thrill about that?”
Sound familiar, golfers? If your spouse has never sung that tune, then likely some of your non-golfing friends have—even if they have not said it to you personally. Most non-golfers have trouble seeing the passion we golfers have about the game. Pars, birdies, tees, bogies, drivers—these terms are as obscure as Sanskrit to them. That first Scottish shepherd who obsessively whacked rocks around the pasture with his shepherd’s crook, trying to knock them into rabbit holes, probably caught hell from his wife for ignoring her and the children and being late for his suppertime haggis.
Even today, many golfers suffer that shepherd’s plight, having difficulty explaining to outsiders the true significance of the game. Non-golfers often view golfers as a strange breed of masochists—trudging around hilly fields, carrying heavy golf bags on their backs, riding in funny looking vehicles, whacking balls, and cursing when their shots go astray. At least the professional golfers they occasionally see on television have a bit more credibility, because they are paid for their efforts.
What many do not know is that most pros play the game for the same reasons that amateurs do—they love the game! Touring pro, Hubert Green, has said he would rather practice than play—and they do not offer prize money for practice. Ben Hogan said in his book that he could not wait for the sun to come up each day so he could get to the practice tee. And Arnold Palmer has exalted how thrilling it was to get on the course to break in a new pair of golf shoes! After five decades of competition, long after he was regularly winning tournaments and the cash window was closed, old age had to drag Sam Snead out of competition. Like our Scottish shepherd, these men obviously played for reasons than ran deeper than money alone. Moreover, the “fresh air-sunshine-beautiful scenery-companionship” theory of why people play golf is an incomplete explanation. There is a principle of psychology that recognizes that people engage in activities they are good at, but, paradoxically, golf attracts people of all degrees of skill.
Thus, psychology might offer some answers for golfers’ persistence for the game, but we are seeking reasons that are more satisfying—rising into the rarified airs of the philosophical and somewhat spiritual realms of this great game. Since most serious golfers are homespun philosophers anyway—especially at the 19th hole—the following discourse should not prove alien.
This leads to the central point: People play golf because it helps them find meaning in their lives. Golf continually affirms them as suffering, struggling, striving humans, who are pulled back to the golf course time after time in efforts to complete themselves as human beings. Through the playing of golf one can feel—like viewing a dramatic movie or play—what it is to be an active, participating person in the game of life in general. A round of golf is like life in miniature, condensed into eighteen holes, during which one will run the gamut of difficult, life-like experiences, with many opportunities for each golfer to “test one’s self by fire.” Though all sports offer these dimensions, it is reasoned that golf does it best.
In this essay, we will look at five areas covering our discussion: Simplicity, Rules, Etiquette, Difficulty, and Suffering. When one plays a round of golf these concepts combine into a complete physical/mental/social/spiritual experience, which each player subconsciously interprets as meaningful, even when the results are not pleasant. Non-golfers are unaware of this experience, and most golfers are not conscious of it, so there is always the mystery of the game hovering over both sides. However, the 19th hole usually alleviates the resultant ambiguity.
SIMPLICITY
Golf is a simple game—USGA rules notwithstanding! You take a club—ill designed for the task, according to Winston Churchill—and hit the ball into the hole in as few strokes as possible. You need no other players, officials, or observers: just a club, a ball, and a piece of ground. This simplicity minimizes outside distractions and excuses, forcing the player to focus inwardly on one’s thoughts, feelings, and expectations. If our golfer misses a one-foot putt, it’s hard to blame any outside forces—though some try, which is a special form of denial.
In games such as baseball and football, the player’s attention is constantly directed outward onto other people and objects: there are opponents to beat, officials to argue with, fans to please, managers to impress, and moving balls to handle. Players can easily excuse their poor performance as being caused by things beyond their control. Such excuses as “He’s throwing spitters!”, “That umpire is blind!”, “Ref, that guy was holding!”, “He missed the tag!” are all soothing excuses to players trying to escape individual responsibility by trying to blame others for their poor performances. Bad backs, not feeling well, rotten luck, bad weather, and out-dated clubs are standard excuses also. Nevertheless, the game makes such excuses difficult to justify, because the game’s simplicity offers little rationale for self-deception. A baseball player, who watches a called third strike with the bases loaded, can blame the umpire for missing a close call, but who is Tiger Woods going to blame for a missed two-foot putt to blow the U.S. Open? Simplicity forces the realization that players cause their own failures, leading to struggling and suffering. Thus, golf “offers” a unique opportunity for wrestling with one’s own psyche.
Critics might say that we have no justification for calling golf a simple game when it has the most extensive body of literature of any game. Just look at today’s golf magazines and instructional books, with their countless, differing theories and opinions on the complexities of swing mechanics. Indeed, when physicists analyze the golf swing scientifically, it is shown that the combination of golf shaft flexibility, club head design, ball cover and dimple design, impact dynamics, tempo and timing, among a myriad of other factors, does make the game appear complicated. For example, recent discoveries about sub-atomic particles make for more complexity that we used to know, but even with ignorance of these realities, scientists still invented the atom bomb years ago! So, even if golf does have its complexities, it can be managed by emphasizing those simple factors that matter the most.
There are golfers whose heads are so full of these distracting complexities that they suffer from “paralysis by analysis,” and the pro instructor will usually try to get the student to focus on just a few things that are manageable. From this we can see that the perceived complexity of the game is a reflection of the complicated perceptions and thought processes of the individual’s mind.
RULES
In the beginning, the rules were simpler: put the ball on a pinch of sand, hit it, and do not touch or pick it up until it is in the hole. Such strict rules once made golf a more difficult game than it is today, because it made more demands on the player. This is what some golf purists would have us return to today, but this would not be popular and would hurt participation in the game. In recent years, many exceptions and new rules have been added, with specific drops, relief from casual water, and other compensations, which allow some limited touching of the ball between the tee and the hole.
However, despite this trend of liberalization, golf’s rules still present a firm challenge. First, they are difficult to read and understand. Even many pros do not understand them as thoroughly as they should, so they occasionally have to get help from rules officials during their rounds. But most of the time the golfers are their own referees, with no one checking up on them, the honor system being in full force. If the golfer hits it in the woods, out of the sight of other players, and moves the ball to a better spot, no one will ever know. So each player must decide in such situations whether to be a person of honor or not. The behavior that players follow regarding the rules will reflect what kind of persons they are. Whatever reputation one develops will quickly be known to all concerned.
ETIQUETTE
Golfing etiquette extends the player into the social world of other golfing companions, usually in a foursome, with all players struggling and equally stressed by this difficult game—all doomed to fall short of their golfing hopes and dreams. Despite this, they are expected to maintain a high level of courtesy and decorum at all times—often when they would rather let the beast in them rage when their game goes astray. Woe be it to the golfer who loses control or cheats on his companions. All will know that there’s a long way to go for that golfer to become a better person, and we will not be far off the mark if we conclude that similar behavior will likely follow in other areas of life when the “heat is on.” Conversely, the golfer who feels like berating an inept caddy or boorish partner, but restrains himself and does not do so publicly because of the code of etiquette, is resolving an internal struggle within, which strengths character. In effect, golfers will then have suffered, endured, and transcended the inner pain of their psychic worlds, making golf a game of personal self-improvement, giving it tremendous meaning to the player.
DIFFICULTY
The intrinsic difficulty of executing a good shot—where the clubface being open or closed just a few degrees at impact can cause a huge error down the fairway—making perfection impossible. That supreme technician, Ben Hogan, said that only one or two shots per round came off exactly as planned, making most golf shots near misses at best. Thus, it’s easy to see that we have a forceful dilemma: golf asks for a perfection which is not possible—but most golfers expect it of themselves anyway, guaranteeing ongoing frustration and anguish. This extreme difficulty of making excellent shots is a constant test of one’s inner strength, and golfers show this inner mettle to themselves and others by the way they handle the struggle. Players must deal with varying degrees of failure on every shot, struggling continuously. I recall a friend who complained vigorously after his first hole-in-one, “But I hit it on the toe of the club!” he yelled. Though the result of his swing was perfect, his swing was not, so he could not fully enjoy what he had accomplished. Then, years later, when we were playing together, he made his fourth hole-in-one, and was quite satisfied when he said, “I hit that one perfect!”
Though this is an unusual example, it shows that one can choose any attitude toward the game, and this is part of the challenge.
SUFFERING
As we have seen, golfers are going to suffer. They are playing a simple but exacting game, showing all how they function under stress. Golfers have to constantly test themselves against strict rules and behave in formal, prescribed manners. Under these conditions, a certain degree of mental anguish is inevitable.
In his book, Man’s Search For Meaning, psychiatrist, Viktor Frankl, asserts that we all have one ultimate freedom that cannot be taken away: to choose our attitude in any situation, no matter how desperate. The attitudes we choose while in our individual states of anguish with our golf games, will determine the degree of meaning the game has for us. Like few other sports, golf offers the player many situations in which to suffer—with total freedom to choose one’s attitude in response. It is this opportunity to succeed or fail in choosing the proper attitude in each challenging situation that makes the game so compelling. If golfers choose growth-promoting attitudes, and struggle with their shots as best as possible, and are able to “forgive” themselves for not being perfect, they will then judge themselves as responsible sports participants. This constant struggle to seek the proper attitude, while still enjoying the game, is what repeatedly pulls the golfers back to the course. Selecting a good, clear positive attitude helps one rise above the suffering and become a better golfer-person.
As a added bonus, this examination of suffering helps us to understand that particular form of stress seen in serious competitions with the pros and amateurs: the “yips.” For those familiar with certain psychological principles, the yips are seen as mild phobias, which are learned fear- responses to those situations it golf where failure was traumatic. Usually the yips occur because of missing too many shiort putts in serious competitions, when the golfer believes there’s no way one should miss such putts. This pressure usually arises in individuals driven to perfection in their golf games, which, paradoxically, is the reason they tend to be golfers in the first place! These yips are nervous afflictions, which cause muscular twitches and spasms, rendering it difficult to deliver a smooth, accurate stroke on a short putt. Imagine the anguish and turmoil in those pro golfers who have allowed the yips to drive them from the tour. Tommy Armour has spoken of the terrors of short putts placing greater pressure on his nervous system than did the rigors of wartime combat. Moreover, what is not generally known, the immortal Bobby Jones quit serious tournament competition at age 28 because he became afflicted with the yips and other nervous afflictions related to golf. During the later years of his golfing life, Ben Hogan was a pitiful sight to his golfing competitors as he jabbed at short putts in competitive situations.
In his later golfing life, Sam Snead became afflicted with the yips, or at least his putting prowess tumbled into such despair that he began putting the ball from beneath his legs, croquet style. Later, that method was outlawed by the USGA, so he changed again and began putting “sidesaddle,” with the ball off to his right side while he faced the hole directly. This method worked for him, and he was able to play very good golf through his sixties. I have attended golf tournaments and looked Sam Snead in the eye, and was impressed with his determined look, yips or no yips! Snead was not going to let his nerves stop him. He accepted the challenge of the yips, changed his style of putting to one that made him more comfortable, thus rising above his old, dysfunctional style of putting. I have known many people like that, so never bet against them. If they can’t beat you they’ll probably outlast you!
As an aside, there is a therapeutic technique that can cure the yips and other phobias; it is called systematic desensitization, and is almost 100% effective. Counselors and psychologists are well versed in this process, and just a few sessions will do the job.
Therefore, the human growth that golf promotes by the individual handling suffering explains one of the challenges of golf. We now see why Ben Hogan climbed out of his near-deathbed just months after his terrible auto accident, and climbed his way back to the top of the tour in the Los Angeles Open of 1950. He went on to even greater success the next few years, despite significant physical challenges.
Beginning golfers soon learn they will experience both joy and suffering in their golfing lives, but they also learn howkpoorly equipped that are able to handle this difficult game. So, they either cope with it or quit. Those who persist develop internal strengths that flow into all aspects of their lives.
SUMMARY
All non-golfers reading this are either yawning or are puzzled. Many may think I’m making a lot over very little, but my experience over 60 years of golfing has convinced me that those who enjoy the game the most are those who have dealt with these issues, placing their golfing lives into better perspective.
Happy golfing!