Ian Stewart

A ROUND OF GOLF

I drop my hand to the ground. It sweeps across the damp grass, the thin roots. The quick breeze blowing at my face dries the sweat off my forehead. It’s picking up now. The surrounding trees start to bend as I line up the putt. The late sun is setting and only now do I feel its warmth on my skin. Twenty yards away lies the small hole. The line looks pretty straight. The ball is slightly shining. I pick the ball up and wipe off specs of grass. Slowly, I place the ball down, lining its emblem toward the hole. I’m crouching behind the ball as low as I can, my knees aching. I double check the ball’s path, this time back from the hole toward the ball.

                  I wake up early this summer morning. Most of my friends are gone on vacation, and the rest, well they’re working. The forecast calls for some showers, and late afternoon sun. The perfect golf day? I’d say so. On warm, sunny days everyone is out playing. But days like this, where the showers scare the masses, this is when you find the real players. By 9 AM I’m sitting outside of the clubhouse, waiting for my chance to play. The partners, they pose no risk to my game. As they proudly inform me they’re beginners. I respond by saying I really am not that good. Players like these are much more enjoyable. Many good players seem to believe you play against others. In reality, it is only you against yourself. You can’t beat someone else in golf like you can in a race. There are no winners or losers, just players. Secondly, new players enjoy the game more. They remind people like myself that mistakes happen and not to take yourself too seriously. In good time we start off, and dark clouds come across the open fairways to foretell an upcoming shower.

                  The game starts well. I have some good holes. The greens were cut early, and the fairways are fairly wide. My game has been good so far. Not that I would count my scores. You can’t get overconfident in golf. Professional players, nine out of ten, will tell you their best day was when they were concentrating on a riddle, a book—something that kept their mind off golf. There’s only one time when you should be thinking of golf—when you’re hitting the ball.

                  I’m swinging the clubs well. My shoulders and hands are relaxed, and I’m swinging smoothly. My pre-shot routine is in good order. I’ve kept it fairly short, while still maintaining consistency. A good pre-shot routine analyzes your current position: how the golf ball is lying on the ground, the distance to the hole, obstacles in the way. You find the direction you want to hit to, and, if important, the ball flight. Then you simply take a few practice swings and hit the ball. A good pre-shot routine focuses you on the task at hand, and nothing else.

                  Unfortunately my putting is off. My good short iron shots [within 100 yards] have been solid, leaving me on the green earlier, but with longer putts. My playing partners note just how important each of these putts is. Instead of focusing on the putt, I’ve thought of the joy of making a birdie. By the time we’ve reached the 8^th hole, the rain has started, leaving a nice cooling sensation.

                  My playing frustrations continue on the next hole. Golf is all about balances. You find your putting isn’t working, you try and force an extra long drive or a real aggressive pin shot. These risks, they put you in an even worse state: the breakdown. I follow this through the 12th hole, where I pull my tee shot into the left trees. My ball is in a horrible lie. My pre-shot routine had some problems. I have only one option. I am a sizable distance from the hole, considering taking the bump and run, a low shot that goes low and far toward the hole. But it isn’t safe. So, I regrettably take a one shot penalty and bring the ball back into play. Right there I decide I will not lose to the course. I won’t put myself in a position to fail. From there I take a solid shot over onto the green, to the surprise of my playing partners.

                  The safe play saves my round, and although I double-bogey the hole, I par the next. A great tee shot and a confident putt brings me back into playing great golf. I play the next few holes without rashness or fear. This leaves me to the final hole, the 18th. A long par 5, it requires good shots. A solid tee-shot leaves me in light grass. My second shot is a great one, launching the ball low and far. I finish off my approach with a high strike that lands hard on the green and rolls to its current distance from the hole. Had it landed softly, it would’ve been an easy putt. But the ball doesn’t bounce the right way, or at least the way I want it to.

                  Now as I look at it, the path seems to be slightly straighter than I originally perceived and quite fast. I stand up for the final time, making a mental note on a small leaf at which to aim. I set my putter down after two practice strokes and stand up to the ball. I pull the club back slowly, smoothly and with only slight natural imperfections. As I draw the club down, the shoulders hinge down in harmony. At contact, the leaf blows away with a swift kick. My follow-through hinges off course, hitting the ball with off speed and poor direction. It slides down and rolls perfectly, directly at the hole. I watch in amazement as the ball rolls toward the upcoming cup. It slows down at its approach. I raise my putter in excitement, watching it disappear into the hole. My partners are too stunned to respond. They give me encouragement, reinforcing how great a shot it was. I thank them for their company, and look back at the putt. Yeah, it sank, but I got lucky. Next time I’ll do better, and the time after that? Well we’ll see. But stick to the task at hand.