CHAGRIN FALLS, Ohio — The game of golf is a futile, frustrating, time-consuming sport beloved by millions. As my friend Cindy says: “I’m so bad at this sport. Why do I love it so much?” Cindy and I are both high-handicap golfers. We’ve played for years, and our scores seem to only get worse with time, yet we’re still devoted to the game.
The staunchest golf devotee of all time, Mary Queen of Scots, was rumored by her political enemies to have been out playing golf when she should have been properly mourning for her murdered husband. Her home course was the famous St. Andrews Golf Course, built during her reign and a mecca for golfers. Mary was the literal antithesis of a golf widow.
For the rest of us, all golf problems, consuming as they may be, are connected only to a small, dimpled ball. Real life and real problems are far, far away. When you’re playing, it feels as if the golf course offers up an alternative to linear time. There is the illusion of being in the middle of nowhere, on a protected island of pastureland, secluded and far from civilization.
I describe myself as a very good golfer with a very bad score. I often impress other players with lots of good shots, but never manage to put all the impressive shots together on any particular hole. When my golf swing gets really out of control, my golf teacher has me hit the ball with my eyes closed. Almost everyone I’ve told about this method thinks it’s ridiculous. I agree. And it works.
The stated object of the game is to strike a tiny ball with a club from the teeing area into the hole on the putting green, taking as few strokes as possible. But the stated purpose has almost nothing to do with the reality of the game. According to legendary golfer Bobby Jones, “Competitive golf is played mainly on a five-and-a-half-inch course, the space between your ears.”
Mostly, the golfers I play with are never happy with their game, no matter how well they strike the ball. We, the high-handicap players, are prone to whining and hand-wringing when one of our shots goes awry. The low-handicappers seem better able to take their mishits in stride. They simply get the ball back in play without a lot of drama.
Lori Wald is a mindfulness meditation coach/facilitator and essay writer.
For the last 18 years of her life, Mary Queen of Scots was secluded from the rolling pastures and wild seascape of her beloved linksland golf course. Imprisoned and awaiting her execution, she embroidered this motto onto a cloth: “In my end is my beginning.” Golf creed? Life motto? Take your pick.
The truth is that golf gets you nowhere. Literally. The 18th hole ends where Hole One begins – a circular trail where you find yourself back where you started without accomplishing much of anything. Another reason so many of us both love and hate the sport, often simultaneously.
Lori Wald currently leads mindfulness meditation sessions at Cleveland Yoga and writes a newsletter called “Tuesdays with Lori,” musings on life, loss and everything in between that’s available on Substack.
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