Directional Golf

My big brother recently invited me to go golfing.

Before I go any further, it’s important to note that I’m not a golfer. Despite my relative (though declining) athletic ability, golf is not one of my strengths. I’m not sure they make handicaps that high.

My brother Jordan, on the other hand, is quite good. He recently shot a 77, which I’m told is terrific. Especially considering he’s been playing consistently for less than a year.

Now, fortunately for me, fatherhood has softened Jordan’s heart. There was a time, back when I couldn’t hit the ball off the platform at Topgolf, that he about fell off his chair in amusement. But this time, perhaps out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness, when we arrived at the clubhouse, Jordan decided to coach me. And fortunately for us both, I decided to listen.

The course was packed. Turns out Sunday mornings in July are popular. Who knew. While we waited for the first tee to open up, we took a few balls to the practice green. Jordan reviewed a few basics—grip, stance, hands, putting. Twenty minutes later he was taking his first practice swings with his driver when I said, “I already feel three times better than when we showed up.” He smiled and ripped a low fade straight down the fairway.

I stumbled into a decent tee shot before grabbing a pitching wedge for my approach. I envisioned the part of the green I wanted to hit and ran through the checklist of pointers that Jordan had just given me. I took a nice easy swing and watched the ball sail high into the air, straight at the green, just a few feet to the right of where I was aiming.

But about 30 yards short.

My shoulders slumped and I expressed my frustration under my breath. I thought to myself, “Here we go again. This is why I don’t golf. I never hit the ball exactly like I want to.” As if he could hear my thoughts—and sometimes he claims he can—my brother said, “That’s a great shot. Sure, it’s a little short, but it’s in the right direction.”

It’s the direction that matters, he explained. Listen to what he said next.

“Golf is not about hitting the perfect shot. Golf is about making your next shot easier.”

Now, my brother is not a professional golfer, or even a scratch golfer. At least not yet. So I don’t know if he was paraphrasing Jack Nicklaus or Jack Bauer. But it made me think.

What I initially saw as a failure was immediately reframed as a step in the right direction.

Life is a little like directional golf. It’s not always position that matters; it’s direction. And sometimes the thing we label as failure is actually making our next shot easier.

• Have there been moments in my life that I’ve labeled failures when, in reality, I just landed 30 yards short in the right direction?

• How often do I find myself feeling frustrated by an imperfect shot? What would change if I reframed imperfect shots by asking myself instead if that shot was in the right direction?

• How would reframing “failure” as a “step in the right direction” impact my willingness to take the next shot?

• What is my direction? How do I know if I’m not heading there? How do I straighten out my swing?

I double-bogeyed the first hole and stopped keeping track of my score after I lost two balls off the tee on the fourth. It certainly wasn’t pretty.

But it was directional.

(Mostly.)