On the Contrary

I play at golf.  I am a terrible golfer, but every now and then, like all weekend golfers, I have a few good holes and hit some amazing shots, and then I think that with a little instruction I could be a really good golfer.  The next round usually cures me of that wild fantasy.  So in order to reduce the stress and really enjoy my rounds, I usually don’t keep score.  I play with a wonderful friend and we usually just laugh at politics and enjoy the day.  But no matter how hard I try, many times I come home disappointed in my game.  It’s that male thing.

Well, I went out to play last Friday with an 8 a.m. tee time and I thought I would hit a few balls on the driving range so I would be warmed up at tee time.  After working through the irons, I moved on to the woods; set the ball on the tee; and took a mighty swing with my driver.  YIPES!  Somehow I managed to pull a groin muscle.  For those of you unfamiliar with this kind of injury, think of it like a hernia repair.  You never understood how every muscle in your body could run through that lower stomach area of your body until you try to move after surgery.

So I am thinking there is no way I can play a round of golf, but I need a way to salvage the day.  After all I have already paid my green fees.  I confirm through another wave of pain that there is no way I am going to be using my woods (injury on the right leg groin area). So I think to myself, I can just ride the cart and play a short game that does not require any big swings or pivots and I can work on that part of my game.  If I hit the ball with all my weight on my forward foot (left), there is little aggravation to the injury so off I go.

I am a guy, right?  So, of course I start thinking of ways that I can even play off the tee with my injury.  So I discover that if I swing more slowly and do not drive off my back foot (and the injured groin area) I can actually hit off the tee with little pain, albeit a very soft shot.  And then things really start to surprise me.

I am using a 4-iron off the tee and I am swinging nice and smoothly, with most of my weight on my forward, uninjured leg, and the ball just sails out there nice and straight.  In fact my whole iron game is about 15 yards shorter, but straight and accurate with every shot off the sweet spot on the club.  Finally, I crank up my courage and pull out my 3-wood.  Once again I am careful to make a nice smooth swing and not drive off the back foot and the ball just sails out there.  Then I get out the driver.  You guessed it.  It was a big mistake as I hopped around the tee saying profound things with F words inserted here and there for emphasis.

But here is the message in all of this.  I had a lovely day because I had absolutely no expectations about my game.  It turned that if I had kept score, it would have been equal to or lower than what I normally shoot without my injury.  I didn’t lose any balls, and I actually improved my swing by not trying to hit it hard and long.

All I could think of as I was driving home from a truly fun day was that if I believed in God, which I don’t (and if I did, my God would have more important things to do than concern himself with my golf game), that he had sent me a not so subtle message.  My fictitious God was thinking: “Okay, I have given him every chance and sign to slow down and relax and just appreciate the day without worrying about how far he hit the ball or the giant divots he made on 17, so now I am going to zap him with an injury to make him appreciate what he has.  Besides his swing sucks and he needs a little handicap to force him to relax and just let the club hit the ball and he is certainly not listening to me.”

Well, it worked.  With no expectations, I marveled at every improbable one foot shot.  Because I wasn’t trying to manly man the ball, I developed a little rhythm that truly improved my game and my enjoyment of it.  I came away having just enjoyed the experience and not wondering what I might have accomplished if I had just rotated my hips a little more because I couldn’t.  So if you are at the golf course and you see this guy hitting just off his front foot and every now and then hopping around, but his shots go nice and straight, it will be me.  Maybe in everything else I do I ought to just slow it down and let life do its thing and not pile on all those expectations.  I might even get a little rhythm.