Earlham Echo

June 28, 2022

I’ve been playing golf two times a week, or so, for most of the summer. Most of the rounds have been by myself, but I did play recent 18s with each of my sons—on different days. It’s fun when we all three play together, but that can get complicated. We have to rent an extra cart, which is really expensive these days. Plus, the guy in the extra cart kind of feels left out. I have heard that you can actually walk while playing golf—carrying your own bag—but that sounds like too much work.

When we all three play, of course the competitiveness ramps up quite a bit. When only one of them is playing with me, it’s more relaxed, because I’m just trying to go as low as I can. If I’m a little lower than somebody else that day, great. If not, that’s fine, too. And I’m pretty average, so if the other guy beats me, it’s no big deal for them.

But if the boys are playing at the same time, it’s on. Growing up in a house where games of Candyland were high drama, we tend to treat such golf rounds like Sunday at the Masters. There’s nothing wrong with healthy competition—we’ve always encouraged that around our house. But if somebody gets too mad about a bad shot or a bad day—and, yeah, it happens—that can suck some of the fun out of it.

My daughter plays, too—sometimes. She’s ultra-competitive, as well, and plays most sports with skill and grace. But not golf. When she took up the game, it was difficult for her to adjust to being—bad at golf. I tried to teach her some basics, but I couldn’t help much. I’m even worse at coaching golf than playing golf. Plus, after I skull one in the pond, blade a wedge, then miss a two-foot putt, it’s hard to take me seriously as a swing coach. The best advice I could offer her was to not get so upset (“Hey, you’re new at this!”), but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

The first couple years after ‘re-discovering’ the game in my middle age, I improved quite a bit. Lately—not so much. On a plateau for a while now, I might actually be sliding down the other side. While I can get bent out of shape about playing poorly when I’m with somebody else, I can usually move on pretty quickly. Enjoying a day recreating in good company, there’s no sense in getting worked up about a couple bad shots. When I play by myself, though, I’m much more likely to get twisted about bad golf. I’m not sure why that is, but a couple poor holes can send those solo rounds to an ugly place. I don’t throw clubs around or anything like that, but the emotions of anger and disgust tend to put a damper on the whole recreation aspect of the game.

I figured out that I tend to be like that in real life, too. Most of my work is similar to my solo rounds. A lot of what I do happens by myself in the converted bedroom that I call the ‘newsroom.’ When I’m cranking out the work, I have no teammates or playing partners. And sometimes I react the same way to work as I do golf. I’m overly annoyed by little mistakes and easily distracted by thoughts about not being good enough. I dismiss the good stuff as, “Well, that’s what I should be doing all the time!”

A great high school friend of mine recently committed suicide. He was literally that guy that no one said a bad word about. Everybody that knew him had a special memory or two (or about a million, in my case) about him. He was personable, outgoing, and kind. For him to take his own life was more than shocking.

Playing amateur psychologist, I think he always carried around a burden. I don’t think he ever thought he was good enough at anything. For a guy that was so well-liked, he had poor self-esteem. He set his own bar so high in every aspect of life that he could never hit it—in his own mind. A joy and a treasure to others, he was a disappointment to himself—and he couldn’t accept that anymore.

My friend and I were a lot alike. I’m probably too tough on myself at times, too. There are moments—as brief as they may be—on the golf course and off that I feel like Tiger Woods or Ernest Hemingway. But trying to hold myself to those standards is unreasonable, and I do that too often. I’m going to keep my expectations high, but beat myself up less about mistakes and imperfections. I’m going to celebrate my wins more and learn from the losses—but move on quickly from them. Like golf, life is a fun, crazy, exasperating, emotional game—and I’m going to take the time to enjoy it more.