A week ago, I was in a state of despair over the depths to which my game had sunk. It was a tale of topped balls, shanks left and right, banana slices and—once or twice—the complete whiff. I was out of my mind with frustration and at the point where I was ready to simply hang up my clubs for the season—two months early. I decided instead to take a week off and give it one more chance.
What a difference a week makes.
When I returned to the course Friday, it was with an entirely new game. Ballstriking was solid, if not particularly long, and with some above average putting, I managed a solid round. It is not back to where I was midsummer, but I have hope for the remainder of the fall season.
I have no idea what I was doing wrong to begin with, and certainly have no idea how I fixed it (or even if it’s truly fixed). The comings and goings of the swing is one of the great mysteries of golf. And it’s a mystery that disquiets the pros as well as amateurs. Can anyone doubt the pain of players such as Ian Baker-Finch and David Duval? Or perhaps of Tiger Woods? Imagine knowing that you can play the game at the highest levels and wondering daily what happened to those skills.
Given the vagries of the game, I’m glad I don’t have to play for a living.