The Lost Files: Golf Shows Little Things In Life Count

Aug 14, 2009 by winjaw

The Lost Files were weekly columns written back around 2001-2003 while I was running a newspaper in the Midwest. They seem to have disappeared from the Internet, probably after some redesign of the newspaper’s web site. So, from time to time, I’ll report some of my favorites from saved hard copies (that’s paper to you new media types).

As many of you know, I have taken back up the most exhilarating, yet frustrating game imaginable. I speak of course of the ultimate game.

To the uninitiated, it’s a silly game where you hit a little white ball with a metal stick into a hole far, far away. To those who play, it is their lifeblood, and the reason they aren’t with the family on the weekends.

To spouses of golfers, it’s a waste of four hours. To golfers, those four or so hours walking or riding around a golf course is the closet thing to heaven this side of heaven.  

You either love it or hate it. For some, watching golf on television is like watching rocks grow. To others, it’s more exciting than life itself.

In essence, to golfers, golf is life itself.

Jokes about golfers and the dedication – some would call it an insane habit – abound. My favorite is about the two guys playing golf one morning. A funeral procession goes by and one guy stops, takes off his hat and holds it to his heart. His friend comments on what a nice and respectful thing that was. Well, the other golfer replied, she was a wonderful wife.

What is our fascination with golf? No one really knows. I do know friends who have no problem spending their kids’ inheritance on the latest clubs, balls or gizmo guaranteed to cure any hook, slice, shank or any other myriad of diseases affecting the golf swing.

I think part of the love of the game, especially in my mind, is that golf often times mirrors life. You may hit the greatest drive in the world, followed by a perfect approach shot that lands three feet from the pin.

Odds are you will miss that little putt. And your true character will come out. You will either laugh it off and move forward, or you will wrap the putter around your playing partner’s neck simply because he’s laughing at you.
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And that is one of the frustrations of golf. A massive drive, curling 280-yards down the fairway counts as one stroke. A putt of four inches counts as one stroke. Doesn’t seem fair does it?

But life isn’t always fair either. It’s interesting how many golfers focus solely on the big drive – just how far can they hit it. Maybe it’s a macho thing, the guy who hits it the farthest is somehow tougher and a real man.

Ironically though, it’s the guy who can make the putts, those silly little strokes, who’s almost always the best player. If you were to play par golf, exactly half of your strokes would be made with a putter. Go figure.

Even the best players only hit three-quarters of the fairways in regulation, or maybe 80 percent of the greens. Yet the best players are those who are good with the short game – pitches, chips and putts.

As a society, we idolize the best and the biggest. The biggest house, the best car. The biggest drive, the longest irons. Yet 75 percent of all golf shots are taken within 75 yards of the pin. In reality, it’s the little things that really count, just like in golf.

You may not be the longest driver or able to hit 7-irons 180 yards. But if you can putt and chip, you can play with anyone. Such is life. You may not be the best at what others consider important, but if you take care of hte little things, and are proficient, in the end your scorecard will always rank up there with the big hitters.

The point is that it’s a blast to really connect and nail a drive down the fairway. And there’s nothing wrong with trying to be a big hitter. But in reality, you make birdies and save pars by chipping up close and holing putts – those little things.

Which reminds me, the sun is up and it’s time to grab the sticks and grip ’em and rip ’em.

Until next time.