A story I heard recently:
It seems that the junior member was having serious difficulty with his swing, hacking his way around the course and driving his much-valued handicap alarmingly upward. Gadgets, books and videos did no good. Nor did visits to the local pro. The more he tried, the angrier he got. And the angrier he got, the worse he played.
Finally, having seen enough, the senior member spoke up: “I know a pro—a magician, really—who could fix your swing. He took one look at mine a couple of years ago and gave me a fix that took six shots off my score. Best teacher I’ve ever had. The only problem is that he’s on the other side of the state.”
The junior member was so enthusiastic that he almost immediately called the pro to make an appointment.
On the appointed day, the junior member drove two hours to the pro’s course and—having arrived early—went to the range to warm up.
He swing, and missed. “F—-”
Unbeknownst to the junior member, the pro was standing behind him.
“I can’t teach you a thing,” the pro said.
“What? Why?,” the junior member asked. “I drove all the way across the f—-ing state!”
“Because you’re too f—-ing angry, that’s why. And I can’t teach you a f—-ing thing when you’re in that sort of mood.”
It all turned out well in the end. The junior member calmed down, the pro gave his lesson, and the swing returned. And lesson learned, the junior member repeats this story to anyone who will listen.