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It had been almost 5 years since I last played in a major championship, the 2003 PGA at Oak Hill in Rochester, NY, where I shot a first round 79 before withdrawing due to the death of my wife’s mother on that Thursday night. The course was the hardest I’d ever played: 6 to 8 inch rough everywhere on the course, narrow fairways, firm, fast greens, and over 7100 yards playing to a par of 70, the length an illusion as there are 3 par 4’s that play between 320 and 370 yards. Now that I had turned 50 and qualified for the Senior PGA Championship, to be played, coincidentally, at Oak Hill, I felt as though I had come upon a major in which I could be competitive: slightly shorter (the hand-out said “no more than 7001 yards”), less firm and fast, and, most importantly, manageable rough. Hah!
Walking out of my hotel room Monday morning for my first practice round, I knew I was in trouble. It was 44 degrees, windy, and threatening rain. The eventual high temperature for the day would not reach 50, and the weather channel indicated that this pattern would continue through Friday. It used to be that cold, windy weather did not affect my game, but this year, after playing almost all of the 5 tournament rounds I have played in like conditions, I have found that my body is not as capable of moving the way I want it to in temperatures below 55 degrees. A large part of the problem is the amount of clothing layers required to keep warm. When the temperature is in the 40s, or when it’s in the 50s but windy, it takes at least 3, if not 4, layers of clothes to keep the upper body warm, while the lower needs an extra layer under the slacks, or a pair of rain pants over them. All this means added weight and limited range of movement. In most cases the course set-up somewhat reflects the weather, which in this case might mean that even the possibility of cool, wet, and windy conditions would cause the PGA to temper the course set-up.
“Most cases”, it would seem, does not include the Senior PGA Championship. Oak Hill is a wonderful golf course. I don’t think I have ever been on a prettier piece of inland property. Looking out from the first tee what stands out is the definition: so many shades of green, from the mower cuts in the fairway, the sharp color change from fairway to rough, the lighter green of the putting surface, the waving greens of the oak trees that dot the course, some 75,000 of them. But within the beauty of defined greens lies the sinister truth: the fairways are tight, the rough is deep and healthy, the greens firm, fast, and sloped, the trees thick and full of leaves. And, if I forgot to mention it, it is cold and windy.
Now, you might think that someone with the PGA of America would attempt to mitigate the combined difficulties of the course and the conditions in some fashion. After all, the new PGA mantra is “Play Golf America”, and who wants to see the world’s best over-50 players struggling to break 80? Alas, this was not to be the case. In the end, the numbers don’t lie: the cut fell at 12 over par; the winning score was 7 over. The average score on the third day, for the 70 players who made the cut (they’re the ones playing the best), was over 76, and this was with warmer temperatures and less wind. Now, I’m no whiner when it comes to course conditions. I’ve played in 6 majors, and I know what tough is all about. I also have a sense of what is tough enough, and when you are trying to showcase not only the best senior tour pros but the best club professional seniors, you need to pay attention to what kind of scores are going to emerge from the conditions at hand. How many people were encouraged to pick up the game from this event? How many will continue to watch senior golf on television after this debacle?
Many times sudden changes in conditions make it impossible to adjust the course to make sure that it does not play too tough. Trust me when I tell you that this was not the case this week. Monday morning I played 9 holes (it was all I could take) in 45 degrees with the wind howling. I went back to the hotel to warm up for a few hours, then came back to work on my short game from 3 to 6 o’clock, wearing 3 layers and full rain gear. Tuesday was not much better. I teed off at 3:30 for a 9 hole round with Don Pooley and Pete Oakley (the course was unavailable early due to a pro-am), and again it could not have played any harder.
As Wednesday rolled around I dreaded even walking outside in the morning, but I braved an 8 am starting time for my last practice round. We teed off on the 10th hole, and by the time I got to 18 I was feeling somewhat overmatched by the course. I hit my best drive (the hole was playing 460 yards into a cross wind) and had 186 yards left to the pin. I hit my best high fade 5-iron, and the ball hit on the front third of the green, a great shot, until I watched it pitch all the way over the back of the green and up against the 4 inch high cut of primary rough surrounding the putting surface. The bottom line was that I had hit my two best shots, and I couldn’t make a par without making a 15 foot putt. My reaction after watching this unfold from the fairway was one of utter dismay, followed by a general surrender. “That’s all I’ve got”, I said out loud. “I can’t play this course. I’m not good enough”. Now, I know better than to ever give up, or get too down on myself, but I have to admit that I felt defeated already. My caddy, the son of an old friend who was a college player himself and was a regular caddy at Oak Hill in the summer, held his tongue until we got to the green, where he proceeded to give me a pep talk. “You can play this course. Don’t let it get to you. Hit it in the fairway and make some putts. You can’t lose your attitude”.
So there I was, author of many an article focusing on moments just like this, always, of course, on the other end of the conversation, listening to my young caddy saying exactly the right things. The irony was overwhelming, and I snapped out of my funk and smiled. “All right, all right, I hear you”, I said. “If your name was Rotella I’d be paying out of my ass”. We both laughed and headed for the front nine. The moment was gone, but I still had the difficult task of figuring out how I was going to play this beast of a course.
I played the first 6 holes on the front nine and called it a day, limiting my practice to a few range balls and a few putts, as my usual routine at major events is to wear myself out hitting balls the day before the start of the tournament. I figured I wasn’t going to find anything different than what I was already doing, and the fact was that I was actually hitting the ball fairly well. The problem was that anything but a great shot had a good chance to be no good at all. Pretty good wasn’t going to cut it at Oak Hill.
My starting time the first round was 1Pm, so I caught an 8 o’clock movie and got back to the room around 10:30. The movie was a good distraction, but now I had time to think about what was coming up, and I still needed some positive self-talk. I sat down with a pen and paper and wrote the following list:
1. I know as much about golf as anyone in the field.
2. I have a good swing: I can hit any shot.
3. I can get it up and down from anywhere.
4. I have the length to play the toughest holes.
5. I have a consistent and effective routine.
6. I am tough: I will grind to the end.
7. I belong here: I am as good as anyone in the field.
8. Never forget how amazing it is to be here and play at this level.
My wife saw the list when I got back home and added:
9. You have a family who loves you no matter how you play.
Now, I have gone on record to say that the tour pros who credit Bob Rotella have little chance to beat Tiger Woods, as they are demonstrating weaknesses that Tiger simply doesn’t have. And when you add in Tiger’s superior physical presence and technique, he is quite simply unbeatable most of the time. That does not mean that psychological techniques such as the affirmations that I needed for myself to combat the demands of Oak Hill are not helpful. I only meant that the need for such things indicates that Tiger will own you on most days and weeks.
I have also written that for the average player confidence comes from improved technique, not from lists such as the one I have displayed here. It is my belief that a player earns confidence, and that pretending to be confident, or inventing a confident attitude, is untruthful and will not hold up under pressure. When a better swing, or a better short game, produces positive results, confidence can be built. For someone like me, at the cusp of high level golf, or for any good player looking to move up to the next level, I do believe that a positive attitude is essential, especially when the endeavor to succeed is fraught with disappointment and failure. In these cases a player, especially if he tends to get down on himself, can certainly use the uplifting words of a professional such as Dr. Rotella. Now, Bob and I do different things, and certainly we will always emphasize what we know best. But I will always insist that without technique, focusing on the target is a nice idea that will produce no results. Poor players need to think about what they are doing, while they are doing it. The better you get, the less you need to think specifically about what you are doing.
So, did my “mental game” exercise help me? I certainly went out into the first round with a good attitude, and I shot 1 over par to start the tournament, which had me in second place late in the day. Alas, I could not sustain the effort, and while I continued to grind as hard as I could, I shot 42 on the back nine for a total of 78. I knew that the cut would be high, and again I started the second round well, shooting 2 over for the first nine, putting myself in position to make the cut. Unfortunately, again I faded on the second nine, shooting 42 again and missed the cut by 5 shots.
What did I learn from the experience? As has been the case in all the majors I have played in since I made the cut at the PGA at Riviera in 1995, my game is not up to the rigors of the most difficult courses. It is an obvious conclusion: at a certain point there is too much difficulty, too many demands for the shots I am capable of producing. I can be as positive as I can be, but that won’t hit the ball in the fairway, get it on the green, or get it in the hole.
It’s simple: I need to get better. I am hopeful that as the weather warms up I won’t have as much trouble getting my body to do what I want it to do when I swing. I haven’t played well at the beginning of the year for quite some time, but I do tend to pick up the pace as the summer rolls on, and last year I turned a poor start into a great year from July on. One big key is to not let bad performances eat away at the desire to improve and compete. I always fight against thoughts of how much money I am losing by not teaching and not playing well.
It is quite helpful to have set routines: after missing the cut and returning home Friday night, I was in the basement working out Saturday morning, and Sunday I taught a full schedule of lessons, fitting in my usual hour of practice at lunch. It’s what I have been doing for years, and one poor tournament is not going to sway me from my desire to compete and win at the highest level. It is always good to get a dose of reality and learn a bit better just what it takes to play the most difficult courses in the most difficult conditions. It is anything but easy, but the challenge is what makes effort worthwhile.