Virtually every golf fan I know is up in arms about the announced merger between Saudi-backed LIV and our own venerable PGA Tour. In a nutshell, the Saudi’s, through its $620 Billion Public Investment Fund, can buy its way into anything it wants. What bothers most people about this unlimited financial power is Saudi Arabia’s deplorable record regarding human rights.
Early in the battle between LIV and the PGA, it was the latter that claimed the moral high ground. That’s always a dangerous position to take, and often leads to cries of hypocrisy after some future decision or management misstep. Which is exactly where the PGA finds itself now.
How will fans and sponsors react to this merger? Will current PGA tour players who declined the ludicrous sums of Saudi cash in order to remain loyal to the PGA tour be compensated in some fashion? I imagine all this will be sorted out relatively soon. Longer term, will it impact the essence of the game of golf? I hope not, but time will tell.
In the meantime, I think a lot about golf. Aren’t retired guys supposed to? Someday I’d like to write a book about golf. Not that there is a shortage of golf books. A book search on Amazon produced over 50,000 listings for “Golf.” What could I possibly add that hasn’t already been written? Still, it remains in the back of my mind. It might surprise you to know that I’ve played the game, or at the game, as the saying goes, for 60 years. I first swung a golf club when I was 3 years old. I have a picture to prove it. I think I peaked when I was 7…
My dad was an exceptional player, and if my memory serves me, I believe he was undefeated during his college career and quite often shot under par. I’ve had many humorous moments and conversations with my dad about the game. Here’s one…
“Dad, you were a great player, and now my two sons are getting really good, what happened to me?”
“Well, talent skips generations,” he said.
“That’s good to know,” I said.
Every golf round is a unique experience. A journey really, and the ultimate test of patience, temperament, determination, and humility. And then you go to the second hole.
A game of perpetual life lessons… My dad caddied for me in a junior tournament when I was about twelve, and I bogied the first hole. As we walked to the next tee he said, “It doesn’t matter what you do on the first hole, it matters what you do on the next seventeen.” Life is like that. One disappointment doesn’t define you, especially if you try harder and find a way to improve, or even if you simply refuse to give up.
Vince Lombardi told his players soon after coming to Green Bay that they would relentlessly pursue perfection. This doesn’t work in the game of golf. It will only drive you nuts. It almost did to me, twice. Which is why I probably need to write a book about the game. Or at least my 60 years of playing it. It would be therapeutic. Or maybe not.
Since my retirement, I’ve been practicing quite a bit. Always, in the back of my mind are Lombardi’s words. Even though I know better, I still search for that magical feeling and the perfect, repeatable swing that I know is in me. Or maybe not.
What does relentless pursuit of perfection mean in other walks of life? What does it mean as a husband, father, or friend? What does it mean as a businessperson, student, or bureaucrat? Lombardi’s ethos produced five championships in nine years, a record that has never been equaled. What would that philosophy produce today in all these other walks of life? Beyond that, is it possible for a community or even a country to have that mindset?
Without question, the most important part of the game of golf is putting. My dad taught me to walk to the hole on long putts. As I did this, my feet helped me gauge the distance and the slope. Getting a view of the break from the opposite side of the hole also helped. So, what is the opposite side of a relentless pursuit of perfection? Is it giving up easily when life gets difficult? Or is it a relentless pursuit of mediocrity? Neither path makes much sense to me. A teaching pro once said to me that if you fade the first practice shot then play a fade that day, even if your best swing path isn’t a fade. Is that a form of giving up, or is it just being adaptable? In golf you are faced with the decision to stick with Plan A or move to Plan B in virtually every round. Isn’t life like that as well?
Results suffer, in golf and in life, when we are more stubborn than adaptable, but also when we give up too easily instead of being determined. It takes a lifetime to develop the wisdom and discernment to decide which course to take in order to accomplish all that is possible in a given situation. That is why, I think, we mere mortals don’t achieve perfection in golf or anything else. No disrespect to Ben Hogan… But if we commit to this relentless pursuit of perfection, greatness is possible, although rarely achieved. Then, if we are lucky, at some magical moment we realize that the outcome isn’t the point of any game. Nor is it the point of a life well lived.
At the end of every round, the first question asked of a golfer is the final score. They ask what you shot, not how you played. But, as in life, the final score rarely tells the whole story. As Grantland Rice put it…
For when the One Great Scorer comes
To write against your name,
He marks-not that you won or lost-
But how you played the game.
Yes, I think I will start writing a book about golf. After I fix my short game…