I had had a good practice session at the range the day before my round, and had high expectations for a major scoring accomplishment. But right from my first wayward tee shot, I could tell something was amiss, and, sure enough, I shot a rather miserable 47 front nine, pocked by bogeys and doubles and no pars. I was obviously distracted, although no particular reason came to mind. Yes, at the first tee, one of my assigned playing partners, an older gent, reached his hand out to shake mine, and, out of conditioning and etiquette, I accepted his greeting with my hand, immediately worrying that I had probably picked up the virus. Yes, my wife and I had a rather heated discussion the night before, the details of which I will not bother you with. Yes, I had forgotten to turn the dishwasher on a bit later after just loading it, leaving us with a pile of unwashed dishes that morning before breakfast. Yes, my sleep was oddly restless. Yes, I had nearly forgotten to take my meds and vitamins that morning. And yes, I almost forgot to take my new GPS watch until I opened the car door to take off. Something was eating at me, and eventually, like an overfilled tea cup, it spilled over into my golf game.
With golf, it doesn't take much. A shocking utility bill. A scolding from one's boss. Or an argument with one's spouse. We can theoretically brush these disturbances aside, but the memories linger in the golf brain and consequently our golf nerve endings and muscles. This then titrates down to the sequencing of those muscles, interrupting our timing. And though our swings may look and feel the same, a change in timing, even a slight change, will change the final result. For me, yesterday, that meant a slightly pulled drive at the first; an ugly pulled nine iron at the second; a lousy too long putt at the fourth; and so on and so on, all leading to a very unsatisfying 47, some five or six shots off what I was capable of.
Now that 47 could well have spelled disaster for the rest of the round. I've seen that with myself, along with other playing partners, and even among touring pros who sometimes continue on the road to perdition. But at the turn, when I stopped for a rest room break and to fetch my sunglasses from the car (which I'd also forgotten in my rash of distractions!), I thought to myself, OK, I am obviously distracted, but I've got nine more holes to make a change, to essentially calm my mind down, return to the basic fundamentals I know I'm capable of, and right the ship.
And right the ship, I did! By acknowledging the distractions my mind was experiencing, regardless of what the causes of those distractions might have been--right, just acknowledging that I was distracted (in Buddhist practice, that's called "noting")--I was able to regroup and go over in my mind the swing triggers that returned me to more solid strikes. Steady head, particularly during the downswing, relatively slow, Inbee Park-like pace, and weight mostly forward for good contact with the irons. I had five pars on the back, no doubles, and the rest bogeys for a 41 to again achieve my goal of breaking 90 at this point in my medical recovery. That was very satisfying and encouraging. And, btw, my new GPS watch worked great, of which I will mention in an equipment review soon on my website mindfulgolfer.com.
It was empowering too, to realize that I could rein in my mind and stop a spiraling descent into golf misery. This is really my main objective in writing this blog and my book, The Mindful Golfer. Golf, I believe, is predominantely a mental sport. For once you nail down the fundamentals of the swing, which just about anyone can do, the rest of the game is played, as Bobby Jones stated, "...on a five-inch course - the distance between your ears."
That sets the stage for the next level of proficiency: confidence. And confidence breeds consistency, one of the principal elements all of us golfers, handicappers to pros, seek. Step by step, one element following the next is how you build a satisfying and consistent game.
Think about it.
***
Condolences to South African Gary Player on the death of his wife of 64 years, Vivienne. She succumbed to pancreatic cancer after a year's struggle. RIP, Vivienne Player; and thoughts of healing to 85 year old Mr. Player et al, one of the greatest golfers of all time.
Perspective: I'm pretty happy with a front-nine 47. 45 is my goal. At Gearhart, if I break 100 I'm happy. If I'm low-90s, I'm very happy. Best score of my life is 86 (at Gearhart), 41-45. But yes, distraction is relative.