According to golf culture, “good golfers” ascend to sublime levels of happiness.
I’ve been awaiting to ascend for about 40 years, but I still find myself fighting the occasional impulse to helicopter a misbehaving putter into a pond.
I’ve met several touring pros and plus-handicap golfers who are self-absorbed cranks who remind me of a bylaw officer inspecting your new fence for a design violation.
You and I can be the nicest people you’d ever want to meet, but everyone gets triggered. We often find ourselves deep in rabbit holes of circular thinking and feelings of confusion and even despair, sometimes for days, weeks or even a season.
It’s not uncommon to hear an amateur golfer say, “I’m glad I don’t have to rely on my golf to make a living.” Nevertheless, we often act as if our house was on the line. It’s ridiculous.
But I don’t care if you’re the Dalia Lama or Eckhart Tolle, if you have golf in your soul, this game is going to piss you off and torture you.
To read the rest, please click here to visit my Substack page, where I now post my blogs (newsletters according to Substack parlance).
About Tim O'Connor