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Teacher Wayne and Student J. have just started their second lesson together. J. has been playing for three years and has worked mostly on his own to get down to a 14 handicap. He progressed rapidly at first, then at a steady pace, but the last 6 months have seen little or no advancement; in fact, J. had seen signs of getting worse instead of better. This was absolutely not acceptable to J., and after trying desperately to work things out on his own, reluctantly put his name in Wayne’s book for a lesson. The first lesson was a real eye-opener for J. He found that many of the concepts he had regarding the most basic elements of the swing were way off base, and that, as Wayne explained, it would take a long-term commitment and a lot of practice to overcome the grooved in fallacies in his swing. After 10 days, J. was back for lesson # 2.
Wayne: So, J., tell me how things have gone since our first lesson.
J.: Well, I played four rounds, and didn’t do so great. I hit some good shots, but it was very inconsistent. I really tried some of the things we worked on, but it was pretty hard to do it out on the course.
Wayne: You played four times, but how much did you practice? I mean, how many balls did you hit? How much time did you put in just working on the stuff we talked about? There were some major changes in the basic way you needed to think about the swing in general. I told you that you needed to give it some quality time on the range to get your brain used to thinking in those different terms. Did you get a chance to really spend some time on the range working with these new ideas?
J.: Well, every time I went out to practice, somebody asked me to play, so I ended up just kind of warming up, then going out to play.
Wayne: You had 10 days between lessons and you played four times. What about the other six days? Couldn’t you get out to the range a couple of times?
J.: I really didn’t have time to get out at all.
Wayne: I think we need a change in philosophy as to how you spend your available time. I can tell you right now that while playing and playing well is the end goal, you’re never going to be able to work through and assimilate the changes we want to make if all that you do is play. Let me ask you this; did you swing at all at home, in the house or in the backyard? Did you spend any time in the mirror watching the motion?
J.: (Becoming impatient with the lecturing.) No, I didn’t.
Wayne: (Trying hard to keep his own patience.) Look, I’m not yelling at you and I’m not suggesting that you’re lazy. My aim is to help you as much as possible. I can analyze your swing, show it to you on the video, explain it to you in all the detail you could ever want, put you in the mirror and move you around so that you can see and feel it, and give you any number of swing keys and drills to use on the range and on the course, but the bottom line is that unless you repeat these new motions over and over, using practice swings, drills and lots of mirror work in addition to hitting balls on the range working on specific items within the motion, you basically have little or no chance to make any lasting improvement in your game.
J.: I hear you, but there seems to be too much to remember. I just want to hit it better, and more consistently. I really don’t like to hit balls that much. How much do I have to practice before I get it?
Wayne: (Sighing and putting his arm around J.”s shoulder.) Come on over here and sit down, J.. I think we need to have a little talk. (Wayne gathers his thoughts for a moment, then embarks on a last ditch attempt to help J. understand a little bit about the game of golf.) J., tell me why you like golf. What made you start in the first place?
J.: Well, I started liking the game after playing with a group of friends the morning of a wedding. I didn’t know how to play at all but one of the guys showed me how to hold it and I actually hit some half decent shots. I guess I’ve been hooked ever since.
Wayne: So, what are the things you like about it? What are the enjoyable parts?
J.: I don’t know. I guess I like the challenge, although it’s been a lot less enjoyable lately, since I’ve been doing so poorly. I really like doing well.
Wayne: Everybody likes to do well, J., and there’s certainly nothing wrong with having the desire to be successful. But, and this may sound a bit off the wall to you, but there really needs to be a deeper motivation that drives you to wrestle around with this game. Golf may be the most difficult thing you’ll ever do. I’m asked constantly by students, “How long will it take me to get it?” Most are dumbfounded when I tell them simply, “Never.” No one has ever “gotten it”, and I suspect that no one ever will. The greatest professionals win at the most two or three times in a year out of the thirty or more tournaments they play in. Just take a seat at the range at any Tour event and you’ll see the best grinding it out, trying to change, to get better, repeating endlessly what it would seem they had already mastered. They know better than anyone the transient nature of the feel of the elusive “it.” And if the absolute best constantly fall prey to the dreaded slump, and never are caught gloating over having “gotten it”, what of lesser players such as myself? Around here I’m considered as good a player as anyone on my level, and it’s a huge step from me to “those guys”. Then think of the gap between how I play and how you play. Are you catching my drift?
J.: Sure. You’re making me wonder why I should even bother with trying to play at all.
Wayne: Aha! Exactly my point. If your only motivation is constant improvement until you “get it”, you are doomed to disappointment and eventually to giving it up altogether. Not many people know this, but since I was a First Team All-American in college in 1979, I have quit the game completely three times, for almost two years each time, when injuries kept me from performing to the level I aspired to. But each time I just couldn’t help myself: I had to come back. I found that my love for the game was too strong to resist. I love to practice. I love to be on the range working on some nuance in the swing that I’ve thought up. I love to roll balls on the putting green, to dump out a shag bag and hit different pitch shots for hours.
And, yes, I love to be out on the course, perhaps competing in a tournament, but especially by myself or with someone equally absorbed by the game, focusing on each shot with all the intensity of the most important tournament. There are very few moments in life as dear to me as a late afternoon, alone on a well-conditioned golf course, the quiet all around except perhaps the sound of a distant lawnmower or the buzzing of a summer plane, the setting sun washing the landscape in a lazy, golden brilliance, a coolness in the air as the shadows slowly lengthen. Sometimes I’ll just lie back in my cart and drink it all in; and in those moments I sense the existence of some higher presence, that whatever or whoever is ultimately responsible for the existence of such a time and place is, at that moment, a bit closer to me.
Don’t get me wrong. I have my scuffles with the game. It beats me up pretty regularly. But I always come back to it with renewed vigor, eager to try my latest ideas in the never-ending quest for the perfect swing, the perfect shot. The difference is that over my years in golf I have learned that it’s the journey, the quest itself, not the destination or the goal, that keeps me enraptured with the game. I work at the game and play because I love it; the successes that I have enjoyed have arisen from the joy the game gives me each day I spend with it.
(Wayne notices that there are only a few minutes left in the lesson). Geez, J., I’m sorry, I guess I talked up most of your time. Listen, we can stop now and you don’t have to pay for the lesson. I just hope you’ll still come back for another one. We’ll definitly hit at least a few balls.
J.: (Pausing, a thoughtful look on his face). No, let’s not stop yet. We’ve got 5 minutes left. Why don’t we go over into the mirror and you can show me what I already forgot from last week and what I need to work on this week when I come out to practice. And, by the way, thanks for the best lesson I’ve ever had.