“I play, but I suck.” This has been my standard answer when someone asks me if I golf. If you’re a golfer reading this and you’re not regularly shooting under, I don’t know, let’s say 95, you’re probably in the same boat. The thing for me is, it’s not like I just took up the sport. I’ve been golfing my entire adult life. Definitely not weekly, and sometimes not monthly, but on average I’d say I’ve been able to play 8-12 times a year or more since my early twenties.
And I suck. I always have.
My father, on the other hand, is an excellent golfer. He’ll say he isn’t because he’s older now and can’t hit the old school monster drives he used to be known for among his golfing crew and the executives he’d play with at work functions and tournaments, but for most of his life, he’s been a really good golfer. The kind of golfer other guys enjoy playing with because he can carry your twosome in Nassau, Skins, best ball or whatever game you’ve concocted with your foursome or group of eight or twelve.
He was a single digit handicap for a long time (if you golf, you know that’s basically awesome) and he tried pretty hard when I was a kid to get me into the sport. If I’m being kind to my younger self, I’ll say I simply resisted. If I’m being completely honest, I’ll say I was a pain in the ass.
I said it was boring. I said it was for old people. I said it took forever to play.
In middle school I probably went out on the course with my dad two or three times a summer. Whatever golf swing I have to this day came from those rounds.
I’ve never taken a lesson. I’ve never worked on my swing. I’ve done nothing other than keep playing every month or so and being awful.
I rely entirely on my athleticism (I’d say above average) and my strength (way above average haha!). You combine those two things and my typical score is somewhere around 105. Maybe 110. I lose tons of balls. My driver is an unpredictable disaster with random bright spots that baffle me.
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I played with my father and brother on Sunday.
A five-drive sequence across five holes looks something like this for me:
- A slice that goes two hundreds yards to the right, over houses and roads and way out of bounds.
- A ridiculous pop-up off the top of my driver with four seconds of hang time that lands in the ladies tee box.
- A line drive directly ten o’clock to my left that never goes more than ten feet off the ground directly into the water.
- An unreal, absolute bomb of a drive, right down the fairway, maybe 280 yards or more.
- A pop-up hook that lands out of bounds to my left, barely 150 yards away.
In short: I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
This all culminated for me in a round last month with two of my nephews.
They’re both just getting into the sport and I was talking to them about playing with my dad growing up. They know my dad. They know he’s a lifelong golfer. We had all just teed off and I hit a classic drive for me: hard slice right out of bounds. Lost my fifth ball of the day.
And my oldest nephew, who is now in his early twenties, said, “Uncle Jon, so you’ve been playing golf for like thirty years?”
“Yeah,” I said, not really thinking about it.
“You know,” he said, laughing. “Objectively, you should be a lot better at this.”
“You’re right,” I said, laughing.
And we all laughed because it’s true.
Then I realized it later: I’m a decent athlete. I shouldn’t be an abysmal golfer.
I know what you might be thinking:
“Finkel, it’s just golf. Who cares?
Yeah. I know. I used to think this way.
In my twenties and thirties, I definitely didn’t care. Golf was one of a hundred activities I did. I accepted being really bad at this one.
But as I’ve gotten older and I can no longer lift in the morning and play three hours of hoops in the afternoon and then two hours of beach volleyball at night, I like activities that dial down the intensity a notch. Things that let me move and be in cool places and that are fun and competitive, but also, aren’t too taxing.
In short: Golf!
It checks all those boxes: It’s a good time. It’s outdoors. It’s away from screens and my desk. I’m in beautiful surroundings with trees and water and hills and sand. It’s challenging and can get the competitive juices flowing. And it’s a great hang with friends/family to just shoot the shit and catch up.
So yeah, I care now.
But one thing I’ve realized lately though is that rounds take way too long when you suck. Conversely, playing well and improving seems like it would be exponentially more fun than hacking and scrambling my way around the course like I do now.
With all this in mind, I have decided to make this… Ready…. Boom:
The Summer I Got Competent at Golf
That’s my goal: competence.
I’m not concerned about getting “good”. Not yet.
I just want to be competent. Get a reliable swing. Only lose a few balls per round. Have a chance at birdies and pars sometimes. Avoid my usual string of 7s and 8s.
What score does that amount to? I don’t know, exactly.
If I can reliably shoot 90-95ish I think I’d enjoy my rounds a hell of a lot more than my normal 104s and 108s. If every now and then I flirt with 89, I’d be thrilled!
So I’m signing up for golf lessons starting next week.
Thirty minutes with a pro. Every other week.
My plan is to go to the lesson one week, hit the range the next week, then lesson, then range. And then play one round a month. That’s it. I don’t have time for more than that these days, but I’m convinced that if I can get to a point where I’m not losing so many balls and not three-putting every hole, then I could cut ten shots easy. That’s not too hard, right? Ha!
If you golf, hit me up. What helped you get better over the years? What do you shoot? How low do you think I can go with regular lessons/practice?
I’ll keep you posted as I go.
Fore!
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Jon Finkel
Editor-in-Chief, Midlife Male
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