Golfing

Every athlete knows that there’s a different kind of frustration that comes with a slump. Not the kind where you don’t know what you’re doing, but the kind where you know too much. A few months ago, I went from comfortably shooting mid-high 70s to grinding out rounds in the high 80s. Every swing felt robotic. I wasn’t playing golf; I was checking off a list like a warehouse worker.

“Stay low through the shot”, “Cup my wrist”, “Don’t spin your hips out”, “Tuck your elbow”. These were just some of the things going through my head.

Instead of trusting my feel, I micromanaged every centimeter of the swing; the worse I played, the more annoyed I was. It became a chore more than fun, and it felt comparable to a degrading test; I kept on failing. After another defeated round, my dad gave me simple advice, he said “Just take 2 weeks off”. In my head, I thought, “Why would quitting golf make me better?” “Shouldn’t I be out practicing?” But I was glad I listened.

When I came back after those 2 weeks, something clicked; I wasn’t picking out and changing my swing, I was just playing. Seeing the shot, swinging freely. After the round, I shot a low of 72, a score I hadn’t touched for months.

The swing didn’t transform. My mindset did.