Friday, June 27, 2008

Truth or consequence


If life is a metaphor for golf, then all the pitfalls of adulthood are just bad lies, water hazards, and traps. To move forward, we have to get out of the trap, put the ball in the hole, and move on. Our golf score is the sum of the choices that we make on the course. Our life score is no different, and when it comes to life, most of us play with handicaps, and very precious few of us are scratch. 

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Tiger's win and my brain chemistry -too much of a good thing

You always hear people talking about great sporting events they witnessed on TV. I remember Reggie Jackson's 3 home runs in the 1977 World Series, 1980 miracle on ice Olympics Hockey final, Nicklaus' 1986 Masters victory, and Tiger's 1997 Master's, and last year's Super Bowl. In fact, Tiger leads the list of things that have inspired me -his Pebble Beach Open, his first tournament win, his Hoylake win, and on and on. The funny thing is that I have become a bit numb to Tiger's otherworldly greatness. Maybe it is because I am in medicine and can understand his pain and pathology. 

Bottom line is that we've seen Tiger do it too many times. It's like having a regular table at the best restaurant in Manhattan -the extraordinary when it is too frequent, becomes ordinary. Tiger will now have to shoot consistently below 60 per round to impress me. Rocco, now that is impressive. That he could keep pace with a phenomena like Tiger is something that he'll keep forever, but losing will stand out most in his mind, because he had too many chances to close it out. Even so, how could he?

Monday, June 16, 2008

A thoughtless round

I played today -with Dr. Lee who lives here in my parents' development. Concentrating hard not to think -to empty myself of wants and desires, to be situationally aware and in the moment, I played 18 holes and notched an 88. I had one 3 putt. It would have been lower had it not been for a quadruple bogey on #3 where I perseverated on trying to smack a fading 6 iron. Even so, I had 6 pars including a sand up and down, and I missed 3 or four more pars by inches. 

I focussed on the process of picturing a shot or putt shape, club selection, wind direction, grip, address, stance, and a mindless swing (which is in there). I also picked up on the importance of rhythm. The ball contact was pure, the putts ended up closer to the hole, and the three putss were fewer. 

Now, to watch the playoff. 

Sunday, June 15, 2008

"Thinking instead of acting is the number-one golf disease."

Sam Snead is the source of this quote. I played 18 today on my parent's course, Summit Green, shot a 96. I hit 12 out of 18 in regulation, and 4 more were chip-ons. I was without any extraneous thoughts tee to green, but putting gets on my brain. I three putted just about everything, and even had a 5 putt! My conclusion is that putting is the one activity that challenges the brain, and the thinking interferes with execution. With the drive and approach, I choose a target line, choose a club, set up a draw or fade, and swing away. I've got to stop thinking...

Saturday, June 14, 2008

You are the One, Neo

I just saw Tiger's performance on prime time. He is injured, grimacing in pain with each stroke. Despite this, he makes eagle on 13, chips in for birdie on 17, and then eagles 18. We saw history, particularly if Tiger wins the Open and then retires because of a bum knee. This was like watching a Rocky movie, only without Tiger bellowing "Elin!!!" Maybe tomorrow...

Thursday, June 12, 2008

It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing

I have put my 6 year old into golf camp. Not because I want him to play on the tour, which would be nice, but rather to get that good swing going at a young age. A sweet, fully rotated, classic golf swing is a beautiful thing to watch. I just finished watching Tiger, Phil, and Adam Scott finish their round, but the players I enjoy watching are the ball strikers. The sound golf swing is an efficient mechanism for launching the golf ball, and Trevor Immelman (youtube video) is one of the best. As a kid, I read Sam Snead's golf primer which reduced the swing to very simple, basic elements, and I copied Fred Couple's swing. What appealed to me was the appearance of minimal effort for maximal energy. After high school, I stopped playing and I took up the game again only three years ago after a nearly 20 year layoff. The swing was still there -unfortunately the pitching and putting wasn't and I've been working on that.

Golfism dictates that the golfist bring new players to the game, and the most important thing to learn first is a sound, good looking swing, and this is easiest when you learn it as a kid.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Virtual fairways in the R.O.K.

In South Korea, there are too many golfers and not enough golf courses. A NY Times article (link here) shows the lengths that people are taking to get swing time. The vitual reality simulators are reportedly in high definition, which is generations beyond what I have seen in my town. Their surfaces tilt to the terrain of the course. There are birds and blades of grass. I saw a simulator at a PGA store in the Detroit airport, and the graphics were primitive compared to playing Tiger Woods 2008 on my Mac. 

I think what the article missed is how Koreans get into fads and how they love all things high tech. They have professional video game leagues which are televised and the top pro's have rock star status. A top Warcraft pro makes 6 to 7 figures. 

Also, they are fanatical about golf. Most of them will take lessons and practice at a range (usually a lot with a high net visible for blocks around) until their form is perfect. I saw a fellow hitting perfect three irons off the range and when I chatted, he told me he had yet to play "on the field." The usual reason is limited access to golf courses and unusually high costs. 

A golf outing in Korea involves someone who knows someone who can get a tee time at one of the publicly accessible courses. You have to show up with a foursome. There are no carts -they have crews of uniformed female caddies who size you up from the first tee and basically find the ball nearly all the time, and hand you the right club -no discussion. Rounds take about 5 hours and you end up at the clubhouse where you then take a schvitz in the sauna, hot tub, get a spa rub down, and then go and have a heavy meal with drinks. This all costs around 300 to 1000 per person. 

Here in the US, I can get on a course without calling ahead and basically have the course to myself, I am happy but also a bit distressed in that golf courses should be a little more crowded, and the players a bit younger. 

Wie back!

Michelle Wie is working towards a come back. I thought she was overpressured by her folks and the media and above all herself. I can understand that. It would be great to have her back in play. 

Monday, June 9, 2008

Golf is good for you!

America's DNA rejects elitism. If you watched the animated feature, Ratatouille, it's market appeal is through its anti-elitist stance. "Anyone can cook," is the motto of Chef Gusteau. But look closely, and you see that it's message is still elitist in its original sense: that the best qualities are in fact rare qualities that deserve to be celebrated. 

 

America's political tapestry is fraught with this uneasy relationship with elitism. It walks hand in hand with America's uneasiness with class. American political figures sublimate their blue blood and ivory tower schooling to avoid looking "out of touch." George H.W. Bush looked titanically out of touch when he marvelled at grocery store bar code scanners -this was likely a generation gap issue, but out of touch with the common man (and woman) he looked. George W. Bush, despite the ichor and Yale/Harvard background, talks like an assistant manager at the Wal Mart in Plano and got a second term where his father failed. Both, by the way, are golfers. I don't know if they are golfists. 

 

Golf is in siege mode because it is viewed as the sport of the elite, particularly when it applies to politics. In some corners, it fits the same bill as polo, fox hunting, and oil drilling. The fact remains, it is costly to maintain 18 verdant holes, to buy good equipment, and to get lessons during childhood (to get that good swing). The time it takes to play a round on a busy East Coast public course runs up to 5 hours, taking up a whole day. 

 

Golf is like whiskey -you mostly drink it in private, you don't talk about it, and your moderate your consumption. The good stuff is basically out of reach of the average bloke, but there is plenty of cheap stuff to make it attainable. Bottom line though, it is a luxury, and fie on the fellow who imbibes daily. As a luxury, it is morally suspect to enjoy it too much. 

 

Golfism changes that. Read the USGA rules of golf and you see the New England Primer, the U.S. Constitution, and the Rule of St. Benedict: words that bring structure and order to a stochastic universe. Playing golf, then, is a celebration of a way of life. How can you live without it. If you can't live without it, how can it be a luxury? Any way you look at it, a year of golf is cheaper than a year of Prozac and counseling, and better for you. How is that a luxury? Playing golf means you aren't flirting with women who aren't your wife, it means taking the time to think about the meaning of your life and your place in the world, and being a better person. 

 

On the course, you are a better man than you are off of it. You let people through. You report your sins and assign your own punishment. You keep a respectful silence as other people go about their business. You offer to share your cigars. If all of the world adhered to golf ettiquette, we would have none of the current mess we are in.


At my folk's place, in Florida

I am taking care of my folks who have both fallen ill. I had to move some of their stuff from the hospital to their home yesterday. They live on a golf development, and I spent the night. That afternoon, I played nine holes. 

It is an interesting course. The developer declared bankruptcy, but fortunately not before selling enough homes to not leave large sections barren. The course itself has changed owners, and despite the drought, it keeps its character. Enough so that a recent Ladies British Open champion calls it her home course. The usual westerly winds were blowing at around 5-10mph. The course had cooled off from the heat that part of Florida suffers from during the day -my wife likens it to being under a magnifying glass. 

I played alone, as is my preference, and a kind couple (husband was teaching wife) let me pass. The golfist appreciates good golf ettiquette and new golfers. The course was empty for a while. I hit from the tips. I used my dad's spare set. The driver was a King Cobra Speed Pro D 9 degree.  The wind was at my back. I set up for a draw -there was out of bounds to the left and right. The hole was a 350 yard dogleg right with a drop in elevation from the fairway to the green of about 50 feet. The inner corner is protected by cypress trees. The ball went farther right and started to float back. I lost site of it as it passed over the trees, about 250 yards out. I hit a provisional which was a low roller that ended up 150 yards out, but I saw the first ball in a bunker about 90 yards out from the hole on the lower tier. I took a 9 iron and opened it up and I hit it too hard, it landed on the back of the green and rolled off. I took 4 more strokes to get back in the hole. It illustrates the majority of strokes are greenside-in. 

Number 12 is a 580 yard par five from the tips. My drive ended up in the fairway bunker leaving about 230 yards to the green. The ball was sitting flat on hard sand. I opened up my stance and set up a fade. It cleared the lip and made a beautiful arc. The wind took it and it landed just short of the green and rolled to the fringe! I four putted for a bogey while I planned for first an eagle, then a birdie, then a par. 

My first par came on number 14, a 178 yard par 3 that was playing 189 yards from pin placement. The wind was now in my face. I choose a 3-iron -I usually am dicey with these, but the Ping Eye-2 3 iron always feels just right in my hands. I put the ball further back in my stance and take a full swing. It clicks and takes the correct line. It fades slightly, and at the tail, the wind takes it almost straight up. The green is hidden by a hump on the hill, and I drive up to the green -it had landed and taken backspin and bit leaving an 8 foot putt straight uphill. Birdie time. I push it leaving a 5 incher -no surety with my ham hands on the scruffy Bermuda greens that haven't been watered all week. Tapped in.

At the final hole, I reached the last group of a clot of late afternoon golfers. More beginners which make me happy as golf needs new converts. I wait, and an older gentleman rolls up and asks if he could hit with me. I said fine. He hits a long gentle draw that rolls to the 150 marker about 270 yards out into a now stiff wind. I am now competing and I smack my ball about the same distance out and also the same distance to the right out of bounds. I had committed the grave sin of pride -of wanting to showup this silver haired man. Sheepishly, I put down my second ball and hit my second drive with no thought or effort this time. It was dead straight and landed next to that man's. We chat. It turns out he plays on the senior mini-tour and was headed to Canada for a tournament. He complimented me on my swing -which was nice for someone who played with Seve Ballesteros only a few years before in Sao Paolo. Feeling charged, I took out my 3 iron to hit the approach which was to an elevated green into the wind. I wanted to recreate the shot from 14, a high fade with intense back spin. I could see it and felt it in my bones -it was going to happen. I missed the ball completely and dug into the grass behind the ball with a terrible thud. 

Greed and pride, anticipation of future gain, the desire to show off and show up, fear of poor execution, and and fear of failure, these thoughts are ruinous and come up particularly around the green where you have to close the deal. The best shots occurred when I stuck to the process of aiming, gripping, aligning and having faith my swing to do the job. 

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Obama plays golf today

Obama played golf today while Hilary suspended her campaign. Immediately it is being judged as something wrong. Again, if he had gone running, no one would raise an eyebrow, but golf is something that is viewed as "elite," time wasting, and selfish. Check it out. I think that it is telling that the one thing politicians don't want to be associated with are prostitutes, bribes, and golf club memberships. 

Perfect

As a middle aged man, there are very few things that we can learn to do well, aside from degenerating in the usual ways. Golf offers the potential of perfectibility. I can't walk onto Yankee stadium and expect to hit a home run, but put me on a par three at Pebble Beach or Pinehurst #2, both of which I can get on way easier than Yankee stadium, and there is a calculable probability of an ace, a birdie, a par. The more I play, the more perfect I can become, like this sunset in Puerto Vallarta. 

The green grass grows all around

Green grass off into the horizon clicks a genetic switch in our brain -it is the peace of the African savanna ape seeing the lush green after the rainy season. Time of prosperity and fecundity. The sap rises from the roots, and it is the spring of our days. 

Hunting and gathering is in our bones and sinews, and this is replicated by the tracking and seeking of the white ball. Smell the grass. Root along the leaf litter for the prized nut. Club that small prey animal with your 3 iron. Signal to your fellow ape with your call "Fore!!!"

Friday, June 6, 2008

Like what?

A golfer believes that golf is a metaphor for life. A golfist believes that life is a metaphor for golf. 

The rules

A conversation overheard before a goatherd's wedding night on the steppes of Kazakhstan.


My son, unlike the Americans, you won't see your wife until the wedding night. Romantic love is viewed with suspicion because it cannot be given an economic value, while fifty goats can. So on your wedding night, you are seated next to some woman covered in wool and silk, draped in coins, and all you can see are her eyes which occasionally dart over to yours. They might be pretty. Its hard to tell, but then again, all of your cousins have pretty eyes, so its a safe assumption that she too would have those dark eyes. There is much feasting -too much, because there can only be too much. Not enough would be an insult, a cause for feuding. The laughing and shouting of the the men is broken up by the occasional report of automatic gunfire -your brothers are celebrating by emptying their AK47's up into the stars -a glorious night! As the party goes on, you and your bride are escorted to your wedding tent. It's hot inside. You ask her name, but she doesn't speak. Both of you are terrified. Your mother is waiting outside. Your new wife lies back as she has been instructed to by her mother, and you do your duty. You've had practice -so much practice, that it doesn't take very long. You reach under your bride and pull out the white sheet stained with her hymenal blood and hand it over to your mother. She ululates her joy and holds up the flag of Japan to all the waiting wedding guests. More gunshots and a return to feasting. The years pass, and you have many children. You have many opportunities to marry again, as you are a wealthy man, but curiously, you pass. You are content, after all. Then your eldest son is ready to marry and as his wedding day approached, he asks you about the truths about marriage and why you have stayed with one wife. You now lean back and stroke your beard and give your son this wisdom.


Rule #1: Over the course of any relationship, you can only have about a hundred meaningful conversations before something truly awful happens.


In fact, you tell your son, you rarely have more than 10 with anyone, and this conversation is number 3 between you two. The first one was about him practicing too much and too loudly. The second was about the superiority of boxer shorts. The more you talk, the less you have to say. You are on conversation number 6 with your wife, and that's only because several years back she found some magazines under the rug. The important thing is listening, you tell your boy. Women will talk incessantly if given the opportunity, but the trick is to divine their meaning. This takes practice. You tell your son you can buy time by scrunching up the eyebrows and making a constipated noise, but to keep the peace, you have to dig through the words and understand. It can be like predicting the weather, you warn him. Women want to be understood, but not by words do you divine their thoughts. And that is the key. Divination. The better you get at divination, the less the need for those conversations which suck the life force out of you. Telepathy is what they call it in the decadent west.

And keep track of those meaningful conversations, because when you pass one hundred, something bad happens. Usually you die. You can ward off that evil day by much furrowing of the eyebrows -but avoid using that too much because eventually you will be cornered into a meaningful conversation. 


Rule #2 -Human interest and passion in any subject or person lasts about two years. Human life lasts about 50. Do the math.


You remind your son the time he decided to dabble in homing pigeons. Everything was pigeon this and pigeon that. Silly messages about runaway goats sent in from over the hills, for a year this went on. Then one day, the pigeons were, in his words, too boring. Then it was roast pigeon for a month. It takes two years for your passion fades into routine. In the west, they call it the sophomore slump. Never let something take away your reason. You can get to the next watering hole by keeping a steady pace, but if you rush, you will lose goats. Passion is like small bag of salt you carry out to pasture the goats for a month. You only need a pinch of salt to make a roasted goat tasty, but use all the salt in one day, and the rest of the month is tasteless and bland. Remember too that your woman is subject to this two year rule. Renew her interest in keeping you comfortable and sated by keeping yourself unpredictable. Like anything else, inscrutability takes practice. Be aware of your routines and mix things up. Keep a mental chart of your routine and change some aspect of it every year. For example, if you change your underwear once a week, after a year, make it once every two weeks! That will keep her off balance. Never let things go for two years. If you feel yourself reaching that two year point, you may have to have a meaningful conversation, but remember rule number 1! Having children is also a good distraction. Remodeling the yurt is another. 



Rule #3 -In all that you do, reduce it to simple, silent acts of nature.


Man is cursed by thought. A chicken without its head will run well. When you learn something, learn it with your heart and your bones. Don't let thinking get in the way. This is the best way to manage rules #1 and #2. 


I have talked too much and used up one of my meaningful conversations. 



Thursday, June 5, 2008

Golf's black heart

The HAC is my neighborhood society of gentlemen devoted to golf mostly for the opportunity to get together and:


1. avoid wives, children, and lawncare duties

2. drink beer and consume artery-clogging foods that accompany beer and fellowship

3. connive, lie, steal, revel in a fellow's misfortune, and cheat


Yes, cheat, because within the heart of all golfers beats a small fifth chamber that pumps black bile, that motivates sin, and drives competition. No way around it, golf competition is a zero sum game of winners, cheaters, losers, and those who failed to cheat effectively. 


Golfism seeks to cleanse the black heart of golf. It should be played from the tips with no handicap. You get what you get and you can't throw a fit, to paraphrase my 6 year old. 

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Golfism's numerology

Golfists are keenly aware of the mystery of the numbers that form the tapestry of a round of golf. 434454453 is instantly recognizable to the golfists at my club as the par sequence of the front nine -each number brings the image and the feel of walking up to each tee. 444535434 is the back nine. Each golfist can recite their courses numerical map by visualizing each hole from memory. These numbers add up to 36 a side, 72 for the whole. My course from childhood (Baymeadows, Jacksonville, FL): 543443454 435344544. The first number, the 5, brings to mind my first tee off on a Saturday morning at 12 years of age -a train of carts full of old impatient men looking up at me. The inability to swallow my spit, the terrible awareness of about thiry eyes, and the need for me to get out of the way. 


I top my drive, refuse a mulligan (always thought mulligans were the worst kind of lie -the lie you tell to yourself), walk the twenty feet to the ball which happily is perched on the rough, and I smash a 4 wood (remember those) 200 yards to applause. That first par five is burned into my memory. These numbers are pregnant with as much meaning as cosmological constants.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

The golfist is more than a golfer.

The golfist is a follower of golfism. A golfer will play occasionally for company, to avoid yard work, and to hide from the wife. A golfer plays for money, for competition, and for status. 

A golfist, on the other hand, goes to worship in the greeny cathedral of his passion. He labors for that pure moment that affirms the presence of perfection in his otherwise imperfect world, no matter how evanescent. The turn of his swing is like the turn of a prayer wheel. His sufferings, his achy joints, his deep pain the mortifications and deprivations of a monk. 

What is Golfism or Why am I a Golfist?

I was at work the other day, when someone brought it to my attention that some people thought I was playing too much golf. Ever since the season started, I have been focusing on tuning my game. The time spent, usually in the early evening, runs about an hour and a half -the time it takes to play a “speed nine.”

In response, I thought about taking my golf underground, to deny my involvement, and evade the scrutiny. But then I realized it would be caving in to a basic prejudice people have about golf and golfers. There are two sides to this coin: ignorance by non-golfers and failure by golfers to defend themselves.

If I was taking that time at the end of the day to run in preparation for a marathon, it would be considered laudable, but practicing sand shots and putting for an hour is viewed as dilettantism.

It was while I contemplated the approach shot on #1, that it was revealed to me that I was no longer just playing a game but also living completely and fully. My drive had drawn partially up the hill, landed, then rolled back. I was 165 yards from the middle where the pin was. It was an uphill stance. I set up for a fade, framed my stance at the large oak on the left, aimed my clubface at the pin, and felt completely comfortable in that moment, aware of myself, my thoughts, my body, my club, and the tiny white ball.

The fading sunlight on the ball brings different things into focus, and I was no longer just there on Wakonda #1, but nowhere and everywhere. I remember swinging and striking the ball which arced to the left, peaked on line with the oak tree, then gently arced right like a promise fulfilled. It landed on the upslope slightly left of the pin, taking a flopping bounce out of sight over the fringe. It was only a few feet from the hole. This moment was not only satisfying, it was transcendant.

Golfism is the set of beliefs centered around this moment. No, that's not right. There are no beliefs. Does a rabbit have a set of beliefs set around the transcendance of running fast? It just is "rabbit." Words clog the flow of this "my presence emphatic."