So today I wanna talk about something ugly – smashing my soul against golf balls. Yeah, that Sad Golfer Mindset. Pure torture. I felt it hard this week.
The Meltdown Begins
Tuesday afternoon. Par 3 course, supposed to be easy. First tee shot? Sailed beautifully… right into the pond. Okay, fine. Drop another. Plop. Same pond. Third try? Barely made it past the ladies’ tee. I could feel my face getting hot. My knuckles were white on the grip.
By hole 3, I wasn’t aiming anymore. Just hacking. Duck-hooking into trees. Topping the ball so it skittered 20 yards. My playing partner wisely stopped talking. Every bad shot felt like a personal insult. Started cursing the swallows flying over the water hazard. Seriously.
The Tipping Point & A Stupid Attempt
Hole 5. Perfect 7-iron distance. Took my time, smooth swing… and absolutely chunked it. Thick turf chunk. Ball went nowhere. That was it. I didn’t scream (out loud). I didn’t break the club. I just… walked off. Straight back to the cart, drove past hole 6, parked it near the clubhouse. Sat there staring at my stupid golf shoes. Felt like an idiot. Quitter.
Drove home fuming. Tried the dumbest thing: searched online for “golf swing fix.” Watched five videos in a row. One guy said “hold the lag,” another said “clear the hips,” another said “stay connected.” Made zero sense. I felt worse.
Actually Trying Something Sane
Next day, still annoyed. But instead of videos, I remembered hearing about managing frustration, not the swing. Decided to try small. Very small.
- Pre-Shot Routine, Only That: Next round, my ONLY goal wasn’t score, not even good shots. Just do my routine before EVERY shot. Find target, take two practice swings (slow ones), step up, hit. Even when I knew it was gonna be crap. Just do the routine.
- Breathing Like an Idiot: Felt anger rising after a bad shot? Literally stopped walking. Took two HUGE breaths. Like, cartoonishly big. Held for a second. Blew it out slow. Didn’t solve the bad play, but stopped the anger tsunami for a second.
- One Hole, Then Reset: Dumped a ball O.B.? Fine. Disaster hole. Mentally shut the door on it at the next tee box. Told myself: “New hole. Just the routine. Just breathe.” Didn’t pretend the last hole didn’t happen, just refused to carry it to the next tee.
Baby Steps, Still Tripping
Did it magically fix my swing? Hell no. Topped a driver yesterday. Skied a wedge. Still wanted to punt the bag into the next county once or twice. But the HUGE, embarrassing rage quit? Didn’t happen.
That breathing thing? Felt silly as heck the first few times. Standing there like a moron huffing and puffing while my buddy putts out. But guess what? After a big breath, I didn’t snap the putter on the next hole.
Sticking to the routine? Actually made me focus less on the last mess and more on the next swing. Even if the next swing was also a mess.
Am I suddenly happy on the course? Nah. Still a Sad Golfer sometimes. But the feeling isn’t the all-consuming, club-smashing fury anymore. It’s more like… well, this sucks, but do the thing, breathe, and move the hell on. Small win? Maybe. Enough for now.
