I took my son and my father to Wakonda for fishing today, and invited my good friend MW and his daughter N. We all got into some fish, but mostly it was about companionship, greenery, and perfect weather. G caught his first fish on a lure today after casting it completely by himself. Fishing has much of the same qualities of mystery for me, particularly fly fishing. The rhythmic movement of the fore and back cast and whipping the line out at will have the same hypnotic effect -it leaves me hyper aware and in the moment, very much alive. All the fish were tossed back, memories kept. 

Sam Snead is the source of this quote. I played 18 today on my parent’s course, Summit Green, shot a 96. I hit 12 out of 18 in regulation, and 4 more were chip-ons. I was without any extraneous thoughts tee to green, but putting gets on my brain. I three putted just about everything, and even had a 5 putt! My conclusion is that putting is the one activity that challenges the brain, and the thinking interferes with execution. With the drive and approach, I choose a target line, choose a club, set up a draw or fade, and swing away. I’ve got to stop thinking…

I have put my 6 year old into golf camp. Not because I want him to play on the tour, which would be nice, but rather to get that good swing going at a young age. A sweet, fully rotated, classic golf swing is a beautiful thing to watch. I just finished watching Tiger, Phil, and Adam Scott finish their round, but the players I enjoy watching are the ball strikers. The sound golf swing is an efficient mechanism for launching the golf ball, and Trevor Immelman (youtube video) is one of the best. As a kid, I read Sam Snead’s golf primer which reduced the swing to very simple, basic elements, and I copied Fred Couple’s swing. What appealed to me was the appearance of minimal effort for maximal energy. After high school, I stopped playing and I took up the game again only three years ago after a nearly 20 year layoff. The swing was still there -unfortunately the pitching and putting wasn’t and I’ve been working on that.

Golfism dictates that the golfist bring new players to the game, and the most important thing to learn first is a sound, good looking swing, and this is easiest when you learn it as a kid.

America’s DNA rejects elitism. If you watched the animated feature, Ratatouille, it’s market appeal is through its anti-elitist stance. “Anyone can cook,” is the motto of Chef Gusteau. But look closely, and you see that it’s message is still elitist in its original sense: that the best qualities are in fact rare qualities that deserve to be celebrated. 

America’s political tapestry is fraught with this uneasy relationship with elitism. It walks hand in hand with America’s uneasiness with class. American political figures sublimate their blue blood and ivory tower schooling to avoid looking “out of touch.” George H.W. Bush looked titanically out of touch when he marvelled at grocery store bar code scanners -this was likely a generation gap issue, but out of touch with the common man (and woman) he looked. George W. Bush, despite the ichor and Yale/Harvard background, talks like an assistant manager at the Wal Mart in Plano and got a second term where his father failed. Both, by the way, are golfers. I don’t know if they are golfists. 

Golf is in siege mode because it is viewed as the sport of the elite, particularly when it applies to politics. In some corners, it fits the same bill as polo, fox hunting, and oil drilling. The fact remains, it is costly to maintain 18 verdant holes, to buy good equipment, and to get lessons during childhood (to get that good swing). The time it takes to play a round on a busy East Coast public course runs up to 5 hours, taking up a whole day. 

Golf is like whiskey -you mostly drink it in private, you don’t talk about it, and your moderate your consumption. The good stuff is basically out of reach of the average bloke, but there is plenty of cheap stuff to make it attainable. Bottom line though, it is a luxury, and fie on the fellow who imbibes daily. As a luxury, it is morally suspect to enjoy it too much. 

Golfism changes that. Read the USGA rules of golf and you see the New England Primer, the U.S. Constitution, and the Rule of St. Benedict: words that bring structure and order to a stochastic universe. Playing golf, then, is a celebration of a way of life. How can you live without it. If you can’t live without it, how can it be a luxury? Any way you look at it, a year of golf is cheaper than a year of Prozac and counseling, and better for you. How is that a luxury? Playing golf means you aren’t flirting with women who aren’t your wife, it means taking the time to think about the meaning of your life and your place in the world, and being a better person. 

On the course, you are a better man than you are off of it. You let people through. You report your sins and assign your own punishment. You keep a respectful silence as other people go about their business. You offer to share your cigars. If all of the world adhered to golf ettiquette, we would have none of the current mess we are in.

As a middle aged man, there are very few things that we can learn to do well, aside from degenerating in the usual ways. Golf offers the potential of perfectibility. I can’t walk onto Yankee stadium and expect to hit a home run, but put me on a par three at Pebble Beach or Pinehurst #2, both of which I can get on way easier than Yankee stadium, and there is a calculable probability of an ace, a birdie, a par. The more I play, the more perfect I can become, like this sunset in Puerto Vallarta.