The Golf Geek

A slight change of focus today.

Usually, I concentrate on helping you improve at golf, using lessons I’ve learned on the course and in life. But today’s a bit different.

I’d like you to help me.

Help me to help you, that is.

I’m guided by my studies and my own journey through golf, but that means I might not be helping you with the difficulties you’re facing. And that’s not what I want to do.

The way round this?

I’d like you to tell me. 

If you don’t mind, I’d be really grateful if you could spend a few minutes to let me know your biggest golfing frustrations and suggesting areas you’d like me to focus on.

I’d be very grateful for any input but, if you’d like a suggestion to get you started, you could answer one of the questions below:

My biggest frustration in golf is                                 

I’d like to see a mental game coach because                              

Although you’re very welcome to use the comments section below, you can also email or use the contact form to get in touch in private, if you’d prefer. While I can’t guarantee I’ll use every email for an article, I’ll cover as many as I can.

[image credit: "Question Mark made of puzzle pieces" by Horia Varlan under Creative Commons licence]

What “lemonade rocks” taught me about golf improvement.

I’ve only scored 100% in an exam once. It happened in my first year of secondary school, in maths of all subjects.

I remember it clearly; we’d moved into the area at the start of the school year so I was an unknown quantity; my classmates were shocked to see this interloper doing so well.

I heard a few mutterings to the effect that I “wouldn’t get that lucky again”, ascribing my success to a fluke.

But I had a secret weapon.

Lemonade rocks.

I feel I should explain a little.

Before the test, I’d been at the “tuck shop” and had bought 2 ounces of boiled sweets (or candy, if you prefer), the aforementioned lemonade rocks. I’d heard sucking on a sweet helped concentration and was thus determined to use this to my advantage.

And it had obviously been successful.

Imagine, then, my consternation when the shop sold out, due in part to my enthusiastic endorsement. I told myself that the type of sweet didn’t matter, any sweet designed to be sucked rather than chewed would do.

But it didn’t work.

I did OK in exams, but not any better than my usual; sometimes I was even a little worse…all because they didn’t have my muse, my lemonade rocks. I came to believe there was something about the sweets themselves, some magic ingredient which helped my brain go into overdrive.

I cut a forlorn figure trudging down every day, more in hope than in expectation, for those yellow-and-white lumps of boiled syrup.

Until the day they were finally back in stock. As luck would have it, I had a maths test the very next day and I gleefully anticipated my results. I knew 100% wasn’t a given, but I’d be in the 90′s or high 80′s at the very least.

You can probably guess how it went.

My 78% wasn’t dreadful, but it was well below my average, let alone my expectations. I realised (only 14 months too late) my results had nothing to do with my choice in confectionary. Who would’ve thought it?

What this has to do with your golf. Read More…

That’s what some mental coaches seem  to be saying.

But is it true?

I don’t know about you, but when I’ve thought I was under pressure, there were a number of things which didn’t feel very “mental”.

My heart seemed to be pounding, my neck and jaw muscles felt solid and my mouth felt dry. And I believe these symptoms were real.

But I’m not disagreeing with the mental coaches, either.

“Mental” issues bring “physical” consequences.

As I’ve said before, it’s impossible to disentangle the physical and the mental in reality; we do so when we discuss things to aid simplicity. But we forget it’s a simplification and discuss the mental/physical divide like it’s real. Read More…

Would you take a supplement if it made you play worse?

I’m not one for kicking a man when he’s down, and I’ve no desire to cheapen the wonderful spectacle that was the 2012 Ryder Cup. Great sport requires two sides, and the American team played their part.

But I have to wonder about Jim Furyk.

Furyk was agitated and edgy around his putts, frequently backing off to re-read.

Furyk is also a prominent proponent of 5 Hour Energy.

In case you haven’t heard of it, 5 Hour Energy is a “dietary supplement” which, as the name suggests, promises an energy boost.

The irony is 5 Hour Energy is sugar free meaning it contains almost no energy at all.

That’s right – 5 Hour Energy contains no energy. Read More…

Caddying is an art.

It’s so much more than knowing the yardages.

The Germans (so often the experts in finding words to say the unsayable) have a term for it: “fingerspitzengefühl”.

Literally meaning “finger tips feeling”, it’s used to denote delicacy and tact, as well as the ability to maintain an analytical awareness of an ever-changing landscape.

While the word might not be familiar to most Tour caddies, the concept is their everyday reality.

They need to know when their player needs them to shut up and hand them the club, and when they need to speak up.

Often the field medics of sports psychology, they perform running repairs on damaged psyches, and drag their players back into the present moment from both past and future.

And they’re an unimaginable luxury for most amateur golfers.

While it would be lovely to have them, few top-class caddies can be tempted at the thought of 10% of a dozen balls here and there.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t benefit from their insight. Read More…