The Opposite of Performance Anxiety

Bea and I played 36 holes yesterday. Again. It was a hot, humid Monday, and because it poured down buckets of rain the day before, the ground was drenched and the wet grass clung to our balls without letting them roll. In the couple weeks I was on vacation, I could see that Bea had gotten her drive back, rocketing 200-plus yards most of the time. Meanwhile, I seem to have lost my drive, with my tee shots landing only in the 160-165 range. The starter matched us up with a rather impressive 85-year-old guy who played from the white tees and definitely held his own. On a couple of his approach shots, it seemed like he had a remote control device on the ball, making it curve toward the flagstick like a toy electric airplane coming in for a landing. It reminded us that we still have at least 40 more years of golf ahead of us. If an OMG could maneuver the ball with that kind of finesse and ability, even with one foot in the grave, then we could do it. 

Of course, I am not quite there yet. I shot a 96 on the first 18 and was looking forward to seeing if Bea's theory about aways playing better the second time around would hold true. It turns out, at least on that day, it didn't. As soon as we started out on the replay, I realized that I was hungry and hot and worried that I should go home and do some work instead of staying out to play.

But there was one nice moment on the second round when we’d caught up to the foursome in front of us and they decided to let us play through. They were three guys playing with one gal, and from the looks of it, they were slowed down by having to stop for teachable moments with her. After they teed off on a downhill par 3, they huddled off to the side of the green like ladies in waiting.

Once upon a time, the thought of people watching would have made me nervous. It still does, on occasion. But I had just played this same hole earlier in the day and parred it, so I knew exactly which club to hit and with what kind of swing. After one practice swing, I successfully pulled off the shot and my ball landed within birdie distance of the hole. Bea also made the green, hitting a few feet farther than me, but still only a putt or two from the hole.

When we got down to the green, the three guys in the foursome all smiled and beamed. I grinned back and said something like, “Putting the pressure on us, huh?” And even though we didn't birdie, we sure made par. And they all said, "Nice pars!" and I think I remember them clapping too.

With the ease with which we appeared to par that hole, they must have thought we'd go on to do the same for the rest of the 18 holes. Little did they know I would go on to card two snowmen and a lollipop and end up shooting a pitiful, treading-water 98. But for one brief moment, Bea and I looked like pros to a happenstance audience. If only they knew.

Golf Travel

Hubby and I went away on vacation and played golf on four different courses in two weeks. I had been looking forward to a euphoric time alternating between golf and relaxation by the beach. The reality is that unless you lug your golf clubs on a plane, it’s kinda hard to play with equipment you’re not used to playing. We didn’t have time to hit the range, so it would take me half a round just to get used to the different sets of clubs I had to use. I was guessing at distances with the woods and fumbling with the wedges. It was like cooking on an electric stove when you normally cook on gas.

I felt like a fool in paradise, playing resort courses which were beautiful to look at but scarring on the golf soul. I took a lot of pretty pictures but took home terrible scores ranging from 106 to 116. While I enjoyed my time at the ocean, in terms of golf, it was not a dream vacation, and I couldn’t wait to get home to my old set of Pings. As soon as I could, Bea and I met up to play our local favorite, Fox Hollow. I shot a 98, thank goodness. Back in the under-100 bracket. 

Don't get me wrong. It was nice to get away. But when it comes to golf, it’s good to be home.

A Tale of Two Tournaments

Hubby and I just played two charity golf tournaments back to back. One was on Friday and the other was on Saturday. They both had shotgun starts requiring crack-o-dawn wakeup times. But other than that, they were very different experiences.

The format of the first one was Captain’s choice, a.k.a. scramble. I was the only woman in the foursome, which turned out to be advantageous on certain holes where the red tees were as much as 150 yards forward of the whites. We played with two guys named Guy and Jim. I think they tried to be on their best behavior for my benefit, but after about half a dozen beers, their true colors started to show. Jim started telling off-color jokes and revealed some of the "secret" men's rules of golf that I had never heard of. For example, if a man shanks a drive and hits short of the ladies tees, he has to play the rest of the hole with his wiener out.

The first place team shot a 59. We shot a 61 but so did two other teams. An odd tiebreaker involving who scored lowest on arbitrary holes resulted in the two other teams getting second and third place. The prizes were gift certificates that had to be spent in the golf course pro shop. But our team got zip. I felt a bit miffed, but at least hubby won a raffle prize (a gift card at Dick’s).

The next morning, we got up before dawn to pack goodie bags into the trunk. This was for the annual charity tournament that I have played since 2009 (when I won the trophy for Ladies Champion). After skipping 2010 because of “the injury,” I played again last year and won the Womens Longest Drive trophy.

This year, my mother was on the organizing committee, and I helped her procure and stuff items for the goodie bags. I also helped recruit players, so all of my golf buddies from the twilight crew were there (Dodi, Susanne, Jen and Todd, and Debbie Harry and her hubby) plus Bea and Seri. The rest of the field was mostly retired doctors and others affiliated with the charity.

The tournament format was Callaway, in which everyone plays their own ball and individual net scores are derived from a formula involving subtracting a number of hole scores depending on your gross score. The higher your gross, the more holes you subtract.

We had all practiced at the tourney course two weeks earlier and I shot a 108, so my goal was merely to break 100. I shot a 102, so I didn’t quite make it. All day long, my putts were skating past holes, just left or right. If my ball and the hole were cars on the highway, this would be fine, but in golf what you really want is a head-on collision.

On Hole 16, the closest-to-the-pin hole, I dunked my ball in the water. On Hole 8, the long-drive hole, I landed 15 yards short of Bea. But on a par 5 toward the end of the round, I was able to pure two 7-wood shots in a row (one over a hidden creek) and make the green in three. It was a make-or-break moment where I could have laid up to the edge of the creek with a shorter club, but I decided to go for it. And I was rewarded with a little personal glory.

After the round, we all sat on the clubhouse patio, enjoying grilled steaks with the other players. Bea won two trophies (Womens Champion and Longest Drive). I didn’t win anything but I didn’t really want to. I had helped my mom pick out the trophies, so it wouldn’t feel right if I actually won one of them.

There were plenty of raffle prizes, and Todd won a ladies putter, which he promptly gave to his wife, Jen. Seri had bought a few raffle tickets and I thought she looked a little sad as number after number was called and she hadn’t won anything. Finally, after all the smaller prizes were awarded, it was time to choose the ticket for the grand prize, a foursome at a local country club.

And wouldn’t you know it, Seri won it. I felt a rush of euphoria upon seeing Seri’s face light up when they called her winning number, and not just because I hoped she'd share the prize with me. Winning isn’t everything. But it sure is something to see.

18 + 18 = 91

It was a very golfy day. I hadn’t played golf for 2 straight weeks because it has been hot as Hades around here. Seri was away in Korea and Bea was out with back pain, so I hadn’t seen either of them for almost a month. Yesterday, the three of us met for coffee and catch-up chitchat, and today we got down to business. We teed off at 8:46am, with Debbie Harry completing our foursome. It was just like old times, except earlier in the morning. The sun was out and the humidity was high, so our energy was not the greatest. It was like the first day of school after a long, hot summer.

I wore the new visor hat that Seri had brought me from Korea. We were like two little golfers on the prairie.

The scene of this happy reunion was Pine Ridge, where I’d played a few times since shooting 90 at Fox Hollow. I have never managed to break 100 at Pine Ridge, since it’s a longer course with a higher slope rating. Today was no different, and I shot 106. After 18 holes, Bea said she was feeling warmed up, and asked if I wanted to play another 18. I was just getting warmed up, too, so I said yes, even though it meant I had to make some calls and cancel some things, including telling my hubby that I couldn’t make it to the grocery store today because my putter was en fuego.

But who cared about making dinner when my adrenaline was already pumping and my eyes had grown big, and I had that feeling you get after coming off a roller coaster ride and you want to go again, right away, before you lose your nerve. I was tired and achy, but it was nothing a big juicy hot dog and an ice-cold diet cola wouldn’t fix.

So, after Seri and Debbie Harry returned to their cars and drove away, Bea and me teed off again. And in the end, I was glad I did, because I shot a 91. On the front nine, I managed to keep it all under control and shot an encouraging 48. It looked good for breaking 100, but on the back nine, I never did worse than a double-bogey and actually birdied a par 5 and a par 3. I think it may have been my first birdie on a par 5, but I know for a fact that’s the first time I ever birdied twice in a round.

“You see?” said Bea, “it’s easy when you play all day.”
Yes, it seems easy when you play all day. The hard part is getting a whole day to play.

The Set-Up Three-Step

When you don’t taken a golf lesson for awhile, some strange things can start happening to your swing. Mine was starting to morph into the “homemade” category, with my spine tilting unnaturally away from the target and the ball creeping slowly left till I felt like I was an extra in Michael Jackson’s Thriller video.

I knew it was time for a check-up but I didn’t feel like starring in a solo lesson. On Saturdays, there is a golf clinic that offers group instruction on specific topics. I went to the one on full swing with woods and driver. It was hosted by Julieta Stack, who has a knack for making golf instruction clear and simple.

The lesson began with addressing the ball: Start with your feet together and the ball in the middle. Grip the club, stick your butt out a tad, and drop your arms till they hang straight down and the club head is behind the ball. To me, this feels like bowing forward, almost like a curtsey to a square dance partner. The rest reminded me of a simple dance step, which I will call the “Set-Up Three-Step.”

Feet together and address the ball.

Flare out the left toe.
Step to the side with the right foot.

You should end up with the ball behind the left heel and your feet shoulder width apart. Then take a swing as usual. When I tried it, it seemed like a much more natural way to get all the angles right at address, with my spine tilted away from the target and my head behind the ball, but not in the forced, exaggerated way I was doing before. And it all starts with the feet. Just like dancing.

The Longest Closest to the Pin Ever

My golf buddy Jen invited me to the annual GBBR Golf Outing at Piney Branch. It was a fun day in the sun, and they served both lunch and dinner. The 1pm shotgun start meant I didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn, too. The format was supposed to be “best ball,” where everyone plays their own ball and records the lowest player’s score for each hole as the team score, but the starter announced something about everyone hitting their tee shots, choosing the best position, then playing their own ball from there. That sounded awfully familiar to the “bramble” format I had played recently, but I had just eaten a hot dog and was still savoring the aftertaste, so my mind was elsewhere.

Turns out that Jen and I did play the wrong format – everyone else played the “scramble” format, where each player on the team moves their ball to the best position on each stroke till everyone holes out, but they were calling this format “best ball.” Really, it should have just been “prison rules” for the tournament, with all the confusion. But that didn’t stop us from winning both women’s prizes. Jen won women's “longest drive” by blasting a 200-plus yard bullet on a long rollercoaster fairway. And I won women's “closest to the pin” with a much less impressive shot that landed 47 feet and 9 inches from the pin on a par 3. It was so far from the flag that at first I wondered if I should even mark it, but I did, mainly because I had never used one of those funky, old-school tape measuring devices that they’d left on the side of the green, and I was curious to see how it worked.

At the awards dinner, I was truly surprised when they announced my name. Jen and I both won gift certificates at the pro shop for our efforts. The toughest part was finding merch to spend it on. I must have tried on every cute top in the shop, and finally found an Under Armor sleeveless polo that fit me.

But even though I won a prize, the shot I was really proud of that day involved hitting my 7-utility hybrid brazenly through a stand of trees:

My ball shot like a rocket through two trees and skipped onto the green, rolling just a few feet over and into the rough. It was a risky shot, but it felt sublime to see my ball go just where I aimed it. And that was its own reward.

Dude Looks Like a Lady

It's hard enough to hit a golf ball wearing golf shoes. Try doing it wearing a pair of high heels. That's exactly what I did this afternoon at the High Heels for Hope Long Drive Competition benefiting the House of Ruth. The event took place at the Pine Ridge driving range. For $5 a ball or $20 for five balls, men and women alike teed up to support a great cause. Some highlights:

Hmm, looks like somebody needs to shave?

Or, maybe not.

Shoes courtesy of DSW.

Nice finish!

People lined up for the chance to hit balls wearing high heels.

Wedges don't count, but it's nice to support the charity.

Knee-highs are optional.

I brought my own shoes and didn't fall over.

I knew I wouldn't win this competition, since 220 yards was the woman's yardage to beat. But it was a novelty to try hitting a ball in heels. It's actually a lot harder that you'd think. But then again, I find just walking in high heels a tough task. Hubby was going to do it, too, but he tweaked something in his back the last time we golfed. Likely excuse. Well, maybe we can try again next year!