Golf is not a game to be mastered. You could dedicate 10,000 hours to practice, perfect your technique, and still watch your next shot veer wildly into the trees. Even if you became the most statistically brilliant putter the world has ever known, you could still end up three-putting to lose a match. At some point, golf always wins.
Proof of this truth is everywhere. Consider golfing legends like Tiger Woods or even the best player at your local course. Tiger was undoubtedly the greatest the sport had ever seen, winning a staggering percentage of the tournaments he entered and appearing invincible, as though he had unlocked all of golf’s secrets. Then, things changed. Golf began to catch up to Tiger. The cracks showed when the greatest player of all time suddenly developed the chip yips for an entire season. Yes, the chip yips for Tiger Woods.
Any seasoned tournament golfer can attest to the game’s ruthless difficulty, each with their own tales of the indignities that golf has inflicted upon them. What a pastime it is, always ready to humble even the most accomplished players.
I have learned to take most of these indignities in stride, accepting them as a natural part of the game and of my golfing journey. This expectation—that no matter how well I’m playing, the next shot might go astray—helps me stay flexible when my round takes a turn for the worse. Many players crumble under the pressure to be perfect; one mistake can snowball into a full collapse. But if every golfer understood that while they may win some battles, the deeper truth is that golf will always emerge victorious, they might meet the game with more grace and acceptance.
This is why golf is the game of a lifetime. It humbles, it challenges, and it captivates. Golf’s ability to command the hearts and souls of so many lies, in part, in its confounding ability to make anyone play the fool.
