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The Golf Blog's 2010 Goals

After just about every range visit I work through, or any round of 18 I play, my objective is to always report all developments on the progression of my game to my readers. The only problem with this strategy: how do you measure progress without goals?

We all have them.

Whether striving for a better job, a more rewarding relationship, a better fitness routine, or a healthier eating habit, without a concrete target to hit, we'll never know when we've made it.

With this in mind, here are my 2010 golfing goals:

- The most popular amongst us all, a better score. But simply "a better score" won't suffice. To this point, the best I've ever achieved has been an 88. Secretly, I'd like to think an 83 is possible, but aiming too high (or too low in this case) can be harmful to ones' confidence. (After one round of 93, the mind will start wondering how 10 strokes better is even attainable.) Instead, to begin with, my goal is one stroke better than my best, 88. If I hit this mark, I'll adjust this goal to read: one stroke better than my best, 87.

- Next, a round of 18 holes with 36 putts or fewer. The catch: there must to be at least two birdies mixed in. Because in all seriousness, two putts per hole sounds easy to do, no? I'm sure some will claim I'm naive to believe so, but by practicing four to five foot putts off the course, and always focusing on not three-putting on the course, a round can easily consist of less than 36 putts, or two putts per hole.

- Although I've succeeded in accomplishing this next one - playing a full round with just one golf ball - I'm looking to move to two rounds. (Not the same ball, of course.) If I feel the need to switch balls due to some scuffs causing unwanted movement, that's fine. I just can't lose a ball. I mean, really, how many strokes can we save if all we did the entire round was not lose a ball? You are taking penalties for lost balls, right? I hope so. Policing yourself is what makes this game so terrific.

- As for the amount of golf I'll play this year, 10 rounds is my floor. I'll gladly accept more golf than that, but for right now, 10 seems like a solid number. This brings me to my last goal.

- I would like to play a round of 18 holes with one of my readers. This can't be someone I've already played with. (I'll of course still play with anyone I've done so with before; it just won't count towards this goal.) If anyone is interested, contact me at info@sportsfanIQ.com and we'll set something up. The round's on me!

These are my goals for now. There are others, and perhaps some that will arise halfway through the year, but these five seem the most reachable for now. Maybe around August I'll feel the urge to try and hit half my greens in regulation. If so, I'll be sure to state it here first. But for now, my game's not there yet, so it'll wait.

If you have some you feel would benefit my game, let me know. I always invite insight.

And encourage you to set your 2010 golfing goals.

Hours of practice: 355

Drawing Closer to The Course

Even after 20 inches of northeastern weather, I managed to drag myself to the range with a seven-iron and eight in hand. Before I recap the session, allow me to express my developing boredom with range visits.

I realize the time spent practicing is extremely relevant to the hopeful success translated on the golf course, but eventually we all want to see our hard work come to fruition. For the love of the golf gods, give me 18 holes already. Tucked neatly into a six-by-six heated net region for the last few months, I'm beginning to experience golf's version of cabin fever.

Nevertheless, my latest visit had some ups and downs. The most notable up: my discovery that I now possess the ability to draw the ball�sort of.

After watching a short video on how to go about doing so, and after hitting a lull with the club anyway, I decided to give it a shot with my eight-iron.

Literally, on my first attempt, I shifted my right hip back a bit, made contact, and watched as my ball traveled right to left. I can honestly say it was magical. As quickly as my practice was hitting a rough patch, it was uplifted into a state of euphoria.

From that point, until I moved to the seven-iron, I was imagining a line just right of my target and shaping my shot right on course. It was truly awesome!

(One question I have, though: Do professionals ever attempt to hit a straight shot? Or do they consistently rely on fades and draws? I began thinking about this after I hit about 10 draws. Once my mechanical alignment was out of sorts, I thought, "Am I screwing up my stance to the point where I won't be able to hit a straight ball?" Any insight here would be appreciated.)

But as quickly as my draw appeared, it disappeared. And my frustration level resurfaced. So much so that I decided, at least for now, that I wasn't ready to devote my entire time to right-to-left shots. So I moved on to my seven-iron.

The seven-iron began with a handful of easy, successful shots. Then not so many. Up until my transition to the seven, my session unfolded as such: good start with the eight (up), sudden lull with the eight (down), newfound draw shot (up), lost draw shot (down), few good shots with the seven (up), many bad shots with the seven (down), more bad shots with the seven (further down), and then the cabin fever kicked in full throttle (rock bottom).

I found my composure completely rattled. Everything within me that had been training to be capable of handling these moments malfunctioned: tension in my body arose, mental distractions ensued, and, worst of all, I had fits where I simply one handed a few balls five to 10 yards in front of me. I was breaking down�hard.

But then I stepped outside myself and saw a version months younger. This impression actually helped me understand how far I'd come. Months ago I wouldn't have been able to realize the missteps I was taking. This time, I recognized and made the necessary adjusts to ensure the final 10 to 15 balls left would be pure and golf-like.

And they were.

I regrouped my mental and physical states and, nice and easily, connected with the last few shots remaining. And, as always, you know what they say: "It's that one shot that brings you back for more."

This time, however, it was about five to 10.

Hours of practice: 352

Pausing For A Purpose

I always knew the hardest aspect of this quest towards golf perfection would be how I articulated my thoughts here. To continually expand upon my experiences-a round of eighteen, a few hours on the range, or a reading on what's mentally needed to succeed in golf-and connect with my readers posed the greatest obstacle.

So as I sit here now, I feel that our relationship, in order to grow later on, must pause for a second.

I understand that my goal of golf perfection is somewhat far fetched. I say "somewhat" because I truly believe my capabilities allow me to reach a level only achieved through hard work and focused determination. I say "far fetched" because, by nature, I'm a realist. I realize the chances of playing alongside professional golfers are slim to none.

All of that said, know this: I will not give up.

This admission/commitment is twofold.

For one, whether you decide to remain a part of this ride or not, I ask that you keep in mind how much this journey means to me. I've always believed that if you set your mind to something you will accomplish it and each moment I stand over a golf ball, it's this belief that fuels my subconscious thinking. This endeavor is my chance to practice what I preach, so to speak.

But secondly, and definitely more importantly, it's my opportunity to make a difference. Through leading by example, I hope to inspire. Not just in golf, but for any goal or dream. Whether it's self-satisfaction or monetary gain, hard work equals great reward. There are no shorts cuts.

Furthermore, golf is much more than simply working on a craft or a game. The depths of golf's meaning become woven in your existence each time you seek its mastery, and understanding that a mastery of it may never come actually makes the road more enjoyable.

A quest by definition is a search or pursuit made in order to find or obtain something.What something relates to is unclear. Rather, it's customized to fit each individual differently. For me, it's the feeling of inner peace.

Life brings great challenges and playing golf doesn't solve them or enable us to hurdle our obstacles any easier. What it does, though, is create an outlet to find meaning in our surroundings.

The age old question has always been, "What's the meaning of life?" Although I'm not saying that golf is the meaning or that it will help you answer the question, I am implying it's a symbol of what's necessary to find those answers: in order to hit a good golf shot, you must find calmness within yourself; in order to live a good life, you must find peace. You may or may not ascribe to this philosophy, but the parallels do exist. I feel it's just a matter of experiencing them.

I promise that this forum will not become a philosophic platform about the meaning of life. I will remain concentrated on the task at hand; that is, to perfect my golf game.

It's just that, for only a moment, this explanation felt appropriate.

And perhaps it's all a part of the process.

Hour of practice: 348

February 18th, 2010

Tiger Woods will officially break his three-month long silence at 11AM on Friday morning. At this point, frankly, who cares? We know what he's going to say and considering the intentions are purely to ease Woods back into the PGA tour, there really is no point in getting all worked up about his announcement.

Three months ago my sentiments were the complete opposite. At the time, I couldn't wait for Tiger Woods to show his face and announce his return to the tour. His presence enabled golf to sustain its status - as one of the most engaging sports spectacles my eyes get to see - in my mind.

But now that he's been gone, golf has actually become more appreciable. Up and comers like Dustin Johnson and Ricky Barnes get to spread their wings. Seasoned veterans like Steve Stricker and Ernie Els get to compete for tournaments without the spotlight on Tiger and the massive galleries Woods attracts.

The irony of my position is that prior to Woods, I didn't enjoy watching golf. It was his compelling determination and fearless domination that sucked me into the PGA world. Upon hearing of his knee injury and that he'd be gone from the game for almost a year, I was floored. I literally woke three days straight, having each time come to the realization only moments after opening my eyes that Tiger Woods wouldn't be hitting a golf ball for almost 10 months.

And now, after his latest separation from the rest of the field, my love for golf has strengthened. I don't get caught up in worrying about what Tiger is doing. Instead, I sit back and admire amazing golf shots by men other than Woods. Sarcastically speaking, there ARE other golfers who can perform at a comparable level as Woods.

Who knew?

But I'm not naive.

This of course doesn't mean all won't be watching. Quite the contrary.

In fact, Tiger's gamesmanship has apparently never seized. As Jason Sobel of ESPN points out, 11AM is right smack in the heart of Accenture's Match Play Championship. You know, the first sponsor to drop Woods.

So even in his continued hiatus, Tiger Woods is still competing.

And we're still watching.

Becoming Mentally Comfortable

February 15th, 2010

Because my new golfing philosophy is "practice makes perfect," I'm finding it difficult to move beyond a particular club until I'm hitting it well. Over the course of my last two practice sessions, the first in which I was scheduled to work on my three and four irons, I got stuck hitting the four a lot longer than I'd expected.

I've always had difficulty hitting these two irons, but being committed to you, my reader, encourages me to consider anything below par as unacceptable.

I wasn't exactly "duffing it" (a term used to describe a shot that basically bounces its way twenty to thirty yards, but I wasn't hitting it solidly either. I was tight and having a hard time finding my physical comfort zone. There were scattered shots when I did feel loose, but couldn't seem to find a rhythm.

On this note, I had a thought: They say when investing your money in stocks, you should take notes of your emotional state while buying and selling. That way you avoid forgetting the negative associations and recall the positive ones. I feel the same methodology applies towards golf.

Next time you hit the range for practice, bring along a note pad to scribble down what works, and for that matter, what doesn't.

Write down body positions when hitting a particular club. Jot down where in your stance you felt the most comfortable striking your 7-iron as opposed to your 4-iron. Personally, I began feeling the 4-iron offered the best results when my ball was about two inches behind my front toe. (My 7-iron is best right smack dab in the middle.)

Another mental note I realized: When focusing on hitting a good shot, focus on what you're doing to focus. I know that sounds redundant, but basically understand what you�re attempting to accomplish. That way, when you accomplish it, you can refer to it when you seem to be losing focus on the course.

I had this epiphany while struggling with my 3-iron. Again, the 3-iron has always been my hardest to strike and this season has been no different. Except now I was at least hitting it with some regularity, just not quite where I wanted. So I stepped back and regained my physical and mental composure.

I stood behind the ball, got my intended destination in view, visualized how I wanted the shot to look, took my position, allowed my body to get comfortable while taking notes of what was feeling good (ball one inch off my front toe, weight on my front leg, knees bent, back straight), and then I let it all dissipate as I prepared to hit my shot. You see, eventually you must let all the preparation go. At some point, your body must memorize what's needed to be successful. I'm sure there are plenty of golfers who remind themselves of what's needed each time they stand over their ball, but feeling comfortable when it matters comes from hours of practice.

For me, this one moment of determined concentration turned out to be successful, but of course it won't be enough. I'll need hours more of the same focus on just my 3-iron alone before I'll gain perfection on the course.

But for now, hitting a club until it feels comfortable in my hand feels like the right thing to do. Because truthfully, anything less wouldn't feel comfortable in my mind.

For next time, it's on to the driver.

Hours of practice: 345

Surrounding Myself With Patience

Two beautiful April weekends in the books, two rounds of golf played. As for the individual experiences - they couldn't have been more polar opposites.

But not because of my scores.

In my first round I hit the ball well, though my score didn't reflect it. Due to the problems I was having with my new driver, I constantly found myself scrambling to get on the green in three (that's if I managed to find my drive). Although I was hitting my irons very well, and managed to three-putt only once, I ended the day at a 99. Not good by any means, but taking into consideration that it was my first round of the year, and that my drives only found the fairway one time, I was pleased with the start to 2010.

A lot changed for my second round.

To begin with, I began hitting my driver 270 yards exactly where I wanted to. Aside from a missed three-foot up-and-down save for par, my putting was as expected. I scored an 88, but left feeling more disappointed than encouraged. And in hindsight, my iron play - which was a mixed bag - wasn't what left me puzzled.

Sure, on the back nine I had a three-hole par-stretch, a par five where I cleanly picked a 5-iron off the fairway from 170 out and got it onto the green in two (I three-putted for par), and a 150-yard par three, uphill with water to the left, which I stuck a 6-iron to within 20 feet.

But the enthusiasm I had after 99 was missing after 88. And as most golfers know, it isn't about the score (unless you're competing) that matters. It's the feel of the game that brings you the best results.

I can hit water off the tee, drop, then leave my third shot 30 feet from the hole and get lucky on my par putt. Someone else can hit a beautiful drive dead center of the fairway, knock an iron to within five feet, then lip out on a well struck putt leaving them with the same exact score as me (4). But I can guarantee you that the latter scenario leaves a golfer with a warmer feeling. I know, I know, the scores were the same, but extrapolate on this point some: It's about feel, not score.

So what was the difference between my two rounds?

My 99 was played with not a single soul around my friend and me. We literally did not have anyone in front or behind us the entire day. When I say we didn't see another golfer, I mean we did not see another person the entire 18 holes.

My 88, on the other hand, was filled with backed up tee boxes, frustrated fairway waits, and one huge lesson for me to learn: I can't control what everyone else is doing or feeling. I can only control what I'm doing.

My trouble with a crowded and long round is that I'm worrying about what the group behind me is feeling more than I'm worrying about myself. Are they getting aggravated that my group is taking longer than we should? This thinking hinders my own game because I suddenly forget about executing the areas I worked on, and instead concern myself with the etiquette of what the three other people I'm playing with are doing, or not doing.

This isn't to say that my round of 88 consisted of poor etiquette. My group was very considerate and patient. It's just that I deal with my own issues and in turn it affects my game.

Golf is about rhythm and setting your mechanics in synch with your mentality. When I'm thinking about 10 other things that don't impact me, my game has no chance.

I've always struggled with the distractions that come from concerning myself by other factors besides my own game, but after going from feeling like I was a member of a country club, to being reminded that I'm just another public player in an overcrowded field, it became evident what's necessary.

I must distinguish my talents from those around me. Not in a pompous or selfish way, but rather with determination and purpose. In order to accomplish this, I must become more mentally focused than the rest. If the group I'm in is taking too long, I'm sorry. It just isn't my problem any longer.

Those behind me will have to wait and when it's my turn to go, I will run through my routine and execute accordingly.

Of course as with everything else in golf, this will require hard work.

It's now officially been added to my list of items to master.

Hours of practice: 376

Trying to Keep Both Eyes on The Ball

Houston, we have a slight problem. A little over two weeks ago I awoke with a flickering flash in my right eye. It was just off to the side and had little impact on my round of golf that day.

About a week later, and a little bit more obstruction in my eye, I played two rounds of golf with my in-laws, but refused to succumb to the displeasure I was experiencing, at least for the second 18 anyway. During my first round I encountered a range of emotions. On one hole I'd hit a great shot, only to struggle as I looked down on my ball for the next. This didn't necessarily affect the shot, but it would remind me of what I was dealing with, which in turn had an effect on my psyche for the next shot. Needless to say I didn't play well.

After another week, as the light in my eye increased with intensity, I decided to visit an optometrist and was told of liquid leaking behind my retina and that if it reached my macula - the part of the eye responsible for seeing - I'd have a problem.

Well, I'm sad to report that it has, and in doing so, has entirely blurred the vision in my right eye. And as of this past Sunday, has officially affected my ability to play golf.

Perhaps in denial of my issue, I to hit the range for a few hours of iron work.

About 15 balls in I realized I'd made a huge mistake. I contemplated returning the buckets I'd purchased, but instead pressed on. The ball stood near my feet, but my inability to have any depth perception made it appear closer (or farther) than it was. (If you want to understand how I see the world right now, cross one eye and leave the other straight.)

At first I couldn't believe it was my eye causing the shanking to occur. I passed it off as some mechanical flaw and worked on fixing it. But as my shots continued to be offline, and my frustration grew, the session spiraled out of control. Maybe it was a mechanical issue, but not being able to clearly see the ball confused my common sense to the point where I worried about my grip, left elbow, weight distribution, top hand through, eye on the ball, etc. Was it my eye or my game?

I finally came to a conclusion: even if it was my game, I couldn't play golf again until I my vision returned to normal. To me, It made no sense to play a game that requires so much emotional stability with a mind that had none. The irony of it all is that I approached this practice with an enormous amount of confidence.

By the end, though, I felt discouraged, resentful, embarrassed, sorry for myself, uninspired, and concerned that I'd never play golf again, let alone see. (I know. I need some perspective to comprehend it not being the end of the world. But taking away my ability to play golf is, well, think of your absolute passion in life and imagine it being robbed from you.)

Truthfully, I'm not sure what's bothering me more. My eye or the idea that I'll have to regain the form I've attained to this point. I feel as though, because my session was filled with utter nonsense, the blow my confidence took is going to have more of an impact on my game than my eye will, at least in the short term.

But then again I'm really not thinking clearly right now. I know one thing: you really take for granted how vital both eyes are when hitting a golf ball. When watching the pros play now, it's all I can think about.

As for my game, from the time I left the range to the point you read this now, all that keeps playing over and over in my mind is my ball dashing off to the right, and the feeling as though I've never played this game before.

Two eyes or not, it's simply a terrible feeling.

Hours of practice: 424

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