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I took my time. I took a practice stroke. From 14 inches I make 100 out of 100 putts- maybe 1000 out of 1000. But I missed. Seventeenth hole, national television, standing one under through 52 holes and in good position in the top 10 in the PGA Professional National Championship at the Crosswater Club in Sunriver, Oregon, the same course on which I won the same tournament in 2001. I did everything I was supposed to do, except I didn’t mark the ball and wait. I finished, and it shouldn’t have been a problem. But I missed.
It’s hard to describe the intensity of the grind when the course is brutally difficult, the wind is howling, the temperature is dropping, and it’s the biggest tournament of the year, with the added attraction of having just about every shot you hit televised on the Golf Channel. I was one shot out of the lead 5 holes ago, but after a poor shot to 13 and a three putt, then a missed 4-footer for par on 15 and another on 16 for birdie, I was hanging in at one-under and still on the leader board. No one was shooting it up, and I just needed to get myself in without any more damage. 17 was playing ridiculously hard, with 216 yards to the pin dead into the teeth of the wind, and the pin cut 4 steps from the left edge of the green, 2 more steps to the hazard line. I shoved a Rescue 3 on the green but way right of the pin, then hit a great putt from 75 feet to the aforementioned 14 inches. Now, why, at this point, I decided to finish without marking and waiting I’ll never know. But I did, and I missed.
It doesn’t matter how long you play golf, how many tournaments you play in, how much experience you build up, the game always reminds you that if you take it for granted, even for a brief moment, it will grab you and get your full attention quite quickly. I almost never feel I have a handle on anything I’m doing on the course, so I rarely take anything for granted. I play with players all the time who seem to be far more at ease on the course, or at least they appear to be. Most of them are what I would term “natural”, or “home-made” players, with swings that don’t really follow the rules of ideal stroke mechanics, but who simply have an affinity for the game, a “knack” for controlling the ball and getting it into the hole. They tend to be more “feel” oriented, and thus seem to me to be freer with their movements, with perhaps less thought of how they are doing what they are doing and more about the object of the game, which, of course, is scoring. I guess what I am really trying to say is that golf is a talent game, and certain guys have so much ability that mechanics don’t matter as much.
If you analyzed the swings of Chip Sullivan and Tim Thelen and you considered yourself a capable teaching pro you would probably have more than a few suggestions for each of them. If you played with them, however, you would find that they were probably kicking your ass, and hitting the ball better than you could ever hope to. That being said, they are both club pros, and have not been able to take advantage (up to this point) of opportunities on the next level, be it the Nationwide or the PGA Tour. Their skill, however, is undeniable, and each having won the CPC (Club Pro Championship, Thelen twice), they are on top of the game at our level. Now, you could say that their unorthodox moves are what keep them off the big tour, or you could say that trusting and owning their own deal is what makes them highly successful as players who play golf and hold a job at the same time, which is a whole different story than playing for a living. Whatever the case, they have found their own ways to hit the ball long and in play, accurately to the green, and each possesses a remarkable feel around and on the putting surface. When it comes to their swing mechanics, the only time you would want to change what they do would be if they suddenly lost it completely and were at the bottom of the proverbial barrel. Otherwise, trying to drastically upgrade an idiosyncratic action is a recipe for disaster.
As for myself, I have spent years and untold hours searching for a swing method that would allow me to overcome my own physical shortcomings and hit the ball well enough to win at a higher level. I have played in 5 PGA Championships, and I know what is required to play courses like Oak Hill, Hazeltine, and Medinah when they are set up for a major championship. When you look at the differences between Tours, the LPGA, the Champions, the Nationwide, and the PGA Tour, what you find is progressively more difficult courses. There are no women who can play on any men’s tour. That much has been proven. They can play admirably and perhaps come close to making a cut, but the truth is that the courses are too difficult. Players who succeed as seniors are usually successful against younger golfers right up to the time they turn 50. Their ability to play the most difficult courses makes the transition to slightly easier venues a recipe for low scores and plenty of success. Most find that the constant grind of 7400 yard courses, heavy rough and firm, fast greens too much to take and as they move into their 50’s concentrate solely on the tour where playing the game is less torturous and more enjoyable. WEB.COM players have to learn to go low on the courses they play, and those that do have a great chance to succeed on the more difficult tracks on the PGA Tour.
Major championships are a whole different ballgame. Every factor of course set-up is at its toughest point, and any weakness shown by the player will be quickly exposed. I played in the U.S. Open as an amateur in 1980 at Merion and missed the cut by 3 strokes, and my next major wasn’t until the PGA of 1995 at Riviera. If I were ever to hope to make a cut at a major it would be here, before the Tiger phenomenon, and before the new golf balls and the explosion in club technology: in ‘95 it was still OK for a major course to be 6900 yards long. The greens were soft that year, the scores low, and even par made the cut, which, with great putting, is precisely what I shot. My next four ventures weren’t nearly as successful, as brutally long, tough courses showed my game for what is was, not good enough for that level of difficulty. I have had a fairly successful career as a club professional, and even managed to win the PGA Professional National Championship (known at the time as the CPC) at Sunriver in 2001, but my game has never advanced past streaky, and while I am usually competitive against club pros, I have not been as fortunate against the best of the best.
Now that I am above 50 I feel that I have another chance to distinguish myself against the top players in the world. You’ll notice that I said “a chance”, and not a great one at that, because at this point I have a lot of improving to do if I am ever going to experience any of the success that former club pros such as Dana Quigley, Bruce Fleisher, Jim Albus, Tom Wargo, Larry Laoretti, Allen Doyle, and Lonnie Neilsen have had. One of the things that will make it tougher for me is the new system of qualifying for the Champions Tour. It used to be that the top 7 players at Q-School were totally exempt for the entire year, reason enough to quit a job or at least take a leave of absence to see how it goes. Now, however, the top 30 at Q-School only qualify to qualify again on Monday against 90 other players, most of whom are former Tour players who have not earned automatic status. Good players are playing every Monday, shooting in the 60’s, and never playing in an event, an impossible scenario for someone like me who has a family and great job that I would be foolish to leave for such a crap shoot. That, however, does not deter me from my everlasting quest to play better and compete at the highest level.
One of the neat things about playing in the PGA Professional National Championship is that it is televised by the Golf Channel. Being a past champion I was fortunate enough to be paired with two other former champions, Tim Thelen and Barry Evans, and we were the marquee TV group on Friday. Luckily, I played fairly well, and almost every shot I hit on the back 9 was shown on the air. My daughters Lindsay and Casey are TV savvy, so when I got home it was there for me to watch on the DVR. I always find it surprising to see myself swing in competition. It is almost always so much shorter than I picture it, and indeed much shorter than when I film it on the range. During the tournament I found myself driving the ball progressively shorter off the tee, and in a heavy 20 to 30 mph wind I had quite a few shots into par 4’s of over 200 yards, not a recipe for low scores. When my putter went cold, I was out of contention, and missed qualifying for the PGA by two shots.
Mentally I was not at my best. The long plane ride from Baltimore to Bend did a number on my back, and it was only with the help of a local Muscle Activation Therapist recommended by my good friend and personal health guru Charlie Mcmillin that I was able to feel decent enough to compete at all. With the weather turning increasingly more cold and windy, my body never feeling 100%, and the pressure of having won at this very site previously, I was constantly fighting to keep a positive frame of mind. I was in 6th place after two rounds, dropped to 12th after the aforementioned 14 inch miss on Saturday afternoon, and had next to nothing but a “get it over with” attitude on Sunday as the bogies came with no birdies to offset them. In the end I felt old and beat up, and it took a few days before I could look back and assess what had happened.
For one thing, I had to admit that it was my best performance in this tournament in a number of years. I had gotten on the leader board well into the 3rd round, and had performed well when on television. My game was leaky in all respects, but the thing I gained from watching myself on television was that I was simply too tentative with my swing. I seem almost to guide the ball around the course, afraid to let it go for fear of the wayward shot. It is always a revelation to play with great players, but some guys’ games really stick in your mind, and Tim Thelen was that guy. He’s won the tournament twice and finished 4th this year, but it is the way he plays, fearless and decisive, that really made an impression. I suppose you could call that “confidence”, but I would rather like to think of it as simply letting yourself play the game. Make a full swing, hit the ball, and see where it goes. Play smart but with more abandon, less mindful of the consequences of slight miss-hits. Try to remember that you have played in hundreds of tournaments, and, like all the others, when this one is over you’ll be out practicing again in a day or two anyway. If I am going to be competitive as a senior I am going to have to take advantage of the strength I have built up through daily workouts over the last three years by taking a bigger cut at the ball and relying more on my natural instincts to time the impact area. I am too small physically to over-control the release of the golf club without robbing myself of much needed yardage. I need to let go of my tendency to try to be to perfect with my technique, and realize that my swing is probably good enough to be allowed to perform without too many restrictions.
If this all sounds like I’m being my own sport psychologist, I guess that is exactly what it is. The reason I play in tournaments is first to win, then to learn more about my game and myself so that I can win the next one. I need to never allow my attitude to get like it did in Oregon, and I need to commit to a fuller swing motion and stop trying to hit every shot perfect. It’s time to enjoy playing the game again and let the results happen. If I can accomplish that, then the seeming failure at Sunriver might just be the first step to greater success.
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