My Golf Game is in Shambles
They say the first step toward making an improvement is to admit you have a problem. As it comes to my golf game so far in 2021, rest assured that we have a freakin’ problem, folks.
Working from home for the better part of 14 months paved the way for me to play more golf over that period than I had in years. Late afternoon tee times were abundant last summer, sneaking out to Cog Hill for a quick round or range session the norm. A brief “membership” at the nearby Ruffled Feathers served as a catalyst to even more swings well into the autumn, leaving my golf clubs tired yet satiated.
A very cold and snowy winter soon followed as COVID-19 spiked throughout the United States, prompting me to remain indoors and handcuffed to my laptop researching indoor golf solutions to tide me over.
In retrospect, I think this moment was the beginning of my downfall.
Living in a nearly 100-year-old home has its challenges. Walking three feet in any direction presents another part of the home that needs to be repaired, updated, or torn out. My basement, while large, consists of a damp cinderblock foundation surrounding a crumbling cement floor that can best be described as “lumpy.” It is also the one section of my home that provided enough space to swing a golf club. Sort of.
While I had more than enough horizontal space for a hitting net and driving range mat, my basement ceiling presented a vertical problem. At a tad over 8 feet, the ceiling quickly became my obsession as I pondered whether or not a 7-iron would rattle the exposed pipes as I chased dreams of B-Flight trophies. Luckily for me, I had spent over 25 years honing a flat backswing that provided just enough clearance to take a swipe at some old Titleist Pro-V’s I found in an egg carton.
What followed next is a routine of which I assume millions of golfers partake every day: watching hours of golf swing tips on YouTube. WARNING: this is an extremely slippery slope that I do not recommend as the risk of tumbling down a rabbit hole is very real.
After spending months making what seemed like progress in my makeshift basement driving range, I ventured on golf courses with a renewed sense of confidence. My membership — and sponsorship — of the Chicago Golf Tour heightened my excitement as I felt, for once, I could compete among peers and not make a damn fool out of myself.
At the time of this writing, four events on the Tour have come and gone. To place a grade on my game right now would be a travesty, as I’ve managed to break 90 one time in that short stretch. While Midwest weather patterns have been less-than-ideal this spring, I can hardly blame the flurry of blocks, hooks, three-putts, chili-dips and (dare I say) shanks that have plagued me thus far.
There’s something about golf that hits you dead in the heart when things go poorly. I don’t play more than once a week (at most), and the anticipation leading up to every round borders on unbridled chaotic excitement by the time I’m on the first tee. To play poorly, then, is a travesty that resembles a loss of a loved one, or a broken heart that can only be felt at an abandoned wedding alter.
A recent visit to the driving range (yes, following yet another YouTube frenzy) has left me with some hope of having figured things out, but I know only time will tell. These are dark times, indeed, however hope springs eternal.
Until the next first tee.
