A checklist for your personal golf detox

I You do not suck because of your golf swing.

Great. I’m already amending my thesis. You do not suck because of your swing. If you have a handicap between 12 and +1. The fact is you don’t suck at all compared to most people who consider themselves golfers let alone those non-golfers who know you play. No, to them you’re already good. It’s only you who thinks you suck and believes that if your swing was better you’d be better.

II Your game will not be helped by a fitting session, no matter how expert. 

Your game will not improve because of a new driver, fitted shaft or fresh wedges. Flightscope is not your friend or your savior. It’s a pusher. Avoid being an addict.

III If you have been playing for more than 5-7 years, and you are over 45 years of age, you are probably done improving.

Live with it. Embrace it even. Sorry to burst your bubble but you’re also not going to become a faster runner. Consciousness of limitation is not causal to a limitation on your enjoyment of golf or any pastime.

IV The rare, rare, rare exceptions to point III prove the point.

Feel free to rub my nose in it. Send me stories about all the 45+ year olds you know whose handicaps have dropped from 10 to 5 or 4-2. 

I’m waiting.

V Here’s an old relationship rule that applies perfectly to golf.

If you’re in a challenging personal relationship ask yourself this: If nothing gets better, would you still continue with the relationship? The genius of this question is this: If you can hang in there with no improvement, any improvement will make the relationship (and your life) better and more enriching. Imagine how happy you would be about your golf game if you adopted this mindset.

VI The golf industry is not you and you are not the golf industry.

Why does this obvious fact matter? Because it should not matter to you how far the very best players in the world hit the ball or even the equipment they sometimes use but always endorse. Their spin rates shouldn’t matter nor should any other specification of their performance.

VII Last year I attended the Women’s US Am at Bel Air CC.

I overheard no fewer than three men muse about the distances the top four players achieved off the tee. 

Each said a variation of, “You know, they’re so smooth and their clubs are totally matched to their games.” 

As if… 

Finally, loosened by SoCal sunshine and two on-course beers I spoke up. 

“That’s totally wrong but you won’t like the truth.” 

Incredulous male golf fan: “Oh really, and what’s the truth?”

“The truth is that the four players on the course today are elite athletes. You and I are not.”

VIII You suffer because of denial and a lack of honesty about your golf goals. 

Today I asked a good friend who is a superb athlete about his golf goals for the rest of the year and beyond. He spoke of a battle with the course and a battle with himself. I thought to myself; what happens when we are battling ourselves? I think all of us, the yin and yang and the golfer, lose.

IX For the professional and the high-level amateur golf is a battle, with an opponent and the field.

Amateurs should celebrate their general freedom from these battles. They should celebrate the game for the sake of the game. Being outdoors for the simple joy of being outdoors and the fun of spending time with their companions. 

To quote Jones, “Golf is a game best enjoyed with the convivial companionship of close friends and loved ones.” 

Amen, Emperor Jones.

X Detoxing from golf is unlikely not impossible.

I’ve found my golf detox through another game that (so far) eschews unreasonable expectations, a game that emphasizes playing the game rather than a discrete athletic motion regarded in isolation. You can detox your golf game in a way that will maximize your enjoyment of the game. 

The question is, will you?

A checklist for your personal golf detox

Tennis thing: Learning the serve

I take two lessons a week, only 30 minutes each, though for a time I added a third lesson to focus specifically on the serve. My thought was that within a month or so my serve will catch up with the rest of my game and I’ll go back to two lessons a week. It may turn out that my estimate is optimistic. We’ll see.

Serving is a blend of the toss, the swing (upwards and then outward) and managing to send the ball into the court. I think the toss is unique in sports. I can’t think of another game that asks the player to essentially throw the ball to himself to initiate a strike. The serve, at this point, is abbreviated. I start with elbow up and the side of the racket against my upper back. I’m sure it looks funny but I understand the theory. It reminds me of an abandoned golf swing theory that David Leadbetter tried to sell a few years ago called the A Swing. In the A Swing, the player started his backswing with the hands at around waist high and the club head near shoulder height. 

It never caught on. 

But, as I said, I do get Caesar’s idea. The entire serve motion is surprisingly tricky. The problem is that it looks so simple on TV, or when an expert like Caesar hits a serve right before my eyes. If only. Watching others is instructive in at least two ways. The first is as examples of what not to do. This is a sadly rich field. I see some pretty good tennis players with very bad serves. When I asked Caesar about this he didn’t hesitate before he answered. “Very common. The best way to practice the serve is to do it alone, and it’s boring.” This sounded similar to practicing putting. 

But wait, I’m trying to forget about golf. 

In addition to tossing the ball to yourself, you also have to coordinate a separate motion, that being the actual swing at the ball. There’s one more bit of fun; the ball will be (or should be) far above your head when you strike it. That strike location makes the motion all the more difficult to master. 

I keep the images of three serves in my head. First and most obvious is Caesar’s. Even through he  frequently reminds me that it’s been over twenty years since he’s hit a competitive serve there’s no missing the mastery of his motion. His serve makes the solid strike of the ball seem like a mere eventuality. It looks like he couldn’t miss. The motion and the pace of the serve seem very much out of step with each other. His take back is slow and smooth but once the ball is hit the other perception is of speed.

2021 © Ben Gauger

On TV I  enjoy watching Maria Sakkari of Greece. She is closer to my height so length of her arc and potential extension are closer to mine. There’s a fantastic slo-mo of her serve on Instagram that I study from time to time. It reminds me a mid-1990s golf thing called Sybervision that featured continuous slo-mo loop of Bobby Jones hitting a golf ball. I never got my tempo anywhere close to Jones’ but it was a helpful reference to what was possible. 

2010 © Kate Tann

In the realm of the impossible, something I enjoy watching for its abbreviated if lurid grandeur, is the serve of Andy Roddick. I love abbreviated, explosive athletic motions like Roddick’s. It looks as if every unnecessary movement has been deleted leaving only the kinetic elements that contribute directly to the strike. This appeals to me. It makes me think that I could replicate the essence of Roddick’s serve absent, of course, the astonishing speed and power he achieved. The movement in his serve reminds me a little of watching Nick Price hit a 4-iron. Neither swing lasts long but both are awesome.

2007 Boss Tweed, CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

The take back is the next issue. I’ve watched videos of professionals who start with the racket in the trophy position, upper arm parallel to the ground, upper arm at something like a right angle to it, racket pointing skyward. From here, they execute their racket drop, the rotation of the upward-facing racket to a position that finds the top of the racket pointing backward or, in the case of Mr. Roddick, nearly straight down. Many players coordinate the movement of the tossing arm with the racket arm, so both arms are moving upward at about the same time. I cannot say exactly why, but there’s something about this motion that feels off to me. If the tossing and swinging arm go up at the same time and the ball is tossed further upward it seems to me that the swinging arm will have to wait for the ball to apex and start falling. I understand the racket drop takes time before the forward swing gets going but it seems to me that, maybe, if the swinging arm trailed a bit the transition into the swing might be smoother and more sequential. Not to fixate on Andy Roddick, but this photo shows what I mean.

More on the serve later.

Tennis thing: Learning the serve

The best major championship in golf?

US Open: Tour players are seldom embarrassed and I enjoy it when the USGA’s motive over four days is to do just that. A little humility is a good thing especially when you’re driving courtesy cars every week. I find must-make par putts far more interesting than a procession of makable putts for birdie and eagle.

The Open Championship: The R&A doesn’t have the same flair for penal setups as the USGA and their rota is a bit tiring. Still, I love the spectacle, the weather and the galleries. Bring on the wind and rain, preferably both at the same time.

The Masters: As much as I admire Jones, I despise the patrician and elitist nature of AN. But, the back 9 is an amazingly good theater every year. If I had been Rickie Fowler and some AN clown told me to turn my hat around I would have told him to pack sand.

The PGA: The PGA is has no identity. It’s just another event that’s called a major. Many of the courses are ho-hum and so are a lot of the winners. I think they should make it back into a match play event but the potential loss of TV money means that will never happen. They could have two days of stroke play and take the top guys and play 18 hole matches on Saturday and have a 36 hole championship match just to maximize the suffering.

The best major championship in golf?