The minute you take a break from golf, golf abandons you

Golfpocalypse is a meandering collection of words about golf (professional and otherwise) that sometimes, but not always, has a point. Reach out with your questions or comments on absolutely anything at shane.spr8@gmail.com. We’ll publish the best emails here.

I am doing something seriously wrong in life, because for the past month in North Carolina, the fall weather has been picture perfect, sunny and cool, and in that time I’ve played exactly 10 holes of golf. I play constantly in the summer, and there is almost never a summer day down here that isn’t intensely unpleasant and sweaty and gross. It’s all very stupid. You can probably blame the annual Ryder Cup-style tournament I play with my friends—that happens in early September, I gear up for it with the kind of singleminded focus I should be saving for my family and career, and when it’s over, I’m burned out and just want a break. The timing is terrible, and I miss out on the best golf weather of the year.

Beyond the scheduling failure, though, there’s a bigger problem: When you take time off from golf like I’m doing now, golf will punish you. Severely.

I have fond memories from years past of skipping tennis or basketball for a few weeks, needing a day or two to find my form again, and then slotting right back in where I left off. Golf? Golf laughs at the idea that you can retain even a vague trace of your previous form. Golf insists that if you don’t play for a couple weeks, your return will be torture; it will be like you’ve never picked up a club. Unlike a true beginner, though, you’ll be plagued by memory and expectation. Golf is a jealous mistress, and if you stay away for too long, you get nothing but a cold shoulder when you come slinking back.

Last week, I broke my personal drought, hit some balls at the range, and walked seven holes with a friend. It was abysmal. I couldn’t make clean contact, couldn’t keep the ball in play, couldn’t rid myself of a pathetic weak fade, swung too hard, couldn’t chip, couldn’t putt. I didn’t make a single par, though in classic golf fashion, in the middle of the whole mess I chipped in for birdie. My goal the last two years has been to fight to a single digit handicap, and while I failed both summers, I came agonizingly close, and broke 80 a bunch of times. Now? After a month away from the course, I’m playing like a 17 or 18, at best, and the real kick in the cojones is that I have no clue how to fix it on my own.

It’s going to take professional help, and I already know how this story goes: the minute I feel like I’m getting something back, the rain and mud and snow will hit us, I won’t be able to get out as often as I want, and nothing good will happen until the spring.

There’s a secondary problem here too, which is that the time off works on my brain in strange ways. It’s almost like I forget how addicted I am, how much I love to play, and the concept of making the effort to play, without much hope of a satisfying result, fills me with dread. I start making excuses to stay away.

Part of this is just my own personal hang-ups and spiritual failures—caring too much about my score, and being incapable of enjoying a pleasant day on the course even if I play poorly. But I feel justified in blaming golf a little, too. We often talk about the steep learning curve to get decent at the sport, but we talk less about how you can backslide if you don’t give your game constant attention. I should be able to retain some of my skill, dammit! I should not feel so awkward and unathletic and doomed after a single month!

But this is the fundamental nature of golf. It has always been unfair, always brutal, and when it’s rewarding, it’s rewarding in unpredictable ways. I can already tell you what’s going to happen next; I’ll shake myself out of the doldrums, get back to the course, take a few lessons, learn some tips I’ve learned and forgotten probably a half dozen times already, find something in my swing, break 40 for nine holes, get the bug again, and be back in the cycle of trying to reach single digits next year.

I hate this sport, I disavow it completely, and the next time I play well, probably months from now, it will be the happiest I’ve ever been.

FIVE TOUR THOUGHTS, EARLY FALL EDITION

1. I wrote this week about some interesting players to watch in the fall, but man, I find myself really, really pulling for Joel Dahmen to fight his way above no. 100 and keep his tour card. It’s not like he’s ancient at 37 years old, but it does feel like if he can’t keep his card in these next few weeks, it might be the end of his story. All it will take is one good result—he’s at no. 103 now—but you never know when golf is gearing up for its latest “I’m going to snap your heart in half” gambit. Come on, Joel!

2. Beyond Dahmen, I’m having trouble caring very much about fall golf, and I’m sure I’m not alone. A couple weeks ago, I wrote about how wins by journeymen and no-names should get us buzzing, because those wins are so meaningful for their careers, but somehow we don’t really care. Underdog wins just aren’t the same in golf as they are in team sports, or even tennis, and co-existing with football doesn’t help. On paper there is some good stuff here, but it’s hard not to fall into “checking scores only” mode.

3. The Spanish Open went down recently on the DP World Tour, and it reminded me of Angel Hidalgo, who won a thriller over Rahm in that event last year, and who seemed incredibly cool, particularly in the hair department. What ever happened to him? A look at his OWGR tells a rough story about his past year, aside from a T-3 at the Irish Open. I hope he can get it going again.

4. Horschel’s back! I find Billy Horschel to be one of those people you appreciate more and more with time, just a fun guy with a big personality and lots of opinions. He’s 38 now, and I can already tell he’s going to be one of those guys that’s hard to explain to future generations, a real “you had to be there” kind of dude. I’m thrilled he’s recovered from his injuries, and hope he can bring it in 2026. I still have vague dreams that he’ll win a sneaky major.

5. This is slightly old at this point and was lost in the Ryder Cup build-up, but I’m thrilled Neil Shipley has his tour card. He had one of the most fun episodes of Full Swing this past year, but there’s always the fear with good amateurs like that that it’ll take them a while to get their careers going. We need a guy like Shipley on tour ASAP—there are too many dull personalities out here, especially on the American side—and I’m glad we get him without too much delay.

READER EMAIL(S) OF THE WEEK

I asked for your most anomalous bad rounds, and you delivered. The first comes from Triangle radio legend Adam Gold, who has a story about his most devastating “I’ve lost it all” round:

Remember when NBC did the US Open break 100 challenge (I think with Tony Romo as a celebrity). The idea was to see if a regular Joe could break 100 on a US Open course under those conditions. Anyway, about 20 years ago at the SAS Championship, they tried that….

Foursome was me, Branford Marsalis, Jay Bilas and a listener to the radio show. I had just played the Tournament course the previous day and shot 82, to give you a frame of reference. Needless to say, I did not have my best stuff.

Put three balls in the water and another OB on the opening hole en route to a 12 and it went downhill from there. Only par I made on the opening nine was a 3-putt from 20 feet after inexplicably getting home in 2 on the par-5 7th. Went out in a cool 63. Turned it around on the back to post a 44 to shoot 107. Closed with three straight pars, making about a 25-footer on the 18th with a little bit of a gallery who thought I had accomplished something. Alas, keeping it under 110 was a quasi accomplishment.

There is nothing quite as perfectly “golf” as a 63-44 scorecard. Next, we have David, who can’t forget his high school collapse:

This round happened when I was a junior in high school, so it’s been awhile. I was not a scratch golfer but I was no slouch. Was playing in the #2 position that day. Averaging low 80s with an occasional round in the upper 70s. Out of absolutely nowhere, this day, I could do nothing off the tee but snap hook it. Nothing I did would correct it. Changed grip, changed stance. Changed from Driver to 3-wood. Nothing. Every hole, I’m playing from deep in the left woods. Par 3s were all I could play worth a crap. Kept thinking I would right the ship the entire side, but didn’t, and wound up with a 52, 2 under double-bogey golf. Back nine, I figure, what the hell, this day is already blown, so I didn’t take a wood out of the bag the entire side. Teed off with my 3-iron on all par 4s and 5s. Wound up shooting a 41, including a birdie on the second hardest hole on the course. Next time I went out, everything was back to normal. Just like it never happened. Have no idea where this round came from or why, but this round has stayed in my mind for my entire golfing life.

Steve:

I’m not a great player. Hover around a 21 handicap and generally shoot in the 90s so I’m somewhat respectable. Last year I played a round with 2 friends and another Dad in our community who I had never played with before. I absolutely ripped my drive off the first tee….and that would be the only good shot I hit all day. 2nd shot was a complete shank and that continued the rest of the round. Just absolute hosel rockets along with super slices off the tee. Picked up my ball on multiple holes and took the max. Teed off with hybrids, irons and I just couldn’t hit the ball. I even started shanking chips on the back 9 which was a fun new wrinkle to my game. It was so embarrassing. Carded a cool 118 and walked away in shame. Now every time I see the guy who I played with for the first time around town I know he’s thinking “this guy is a complete hack”. I desperately need him to know that I’m only kinda a hack!

Jordan:

I’m a decent golfer. Don’t hit it very far, but I putt it well. A 10 handicap, give or take a few decimal points. Was in Branson for a conference, so decided to go play Branson Hills. Three days prior I shot a 75 at a course in my hometown of Tulsa. Get to Branson Hills, feeling good, and….104. I’m still a little in shock. Swing didn’t feel terrible, but could not find the center of the club face to save my life. In 18 holes, I managed to make one par. It was hysterically bad. What’s even crazier? I thought I putted pretty well. The problem was most of those putts were for double and triple bogey. So, 104, three days after shooting a 75. That’s my Golfpocalypse.

Jordan hits on another deep, obnoxious golf truth here: In the worst round of your life, there will always be something you do pretty well. So annoying.

Previously on Golfpocalypse:Why don’t we care when a journeyman or no-name wins on Tour?I hate that I am riveted by Bryson DeChambeau’s ping pong challenge Let me teach you where to stand on the tee box to not annoy people I turned down two free rounds at the best course in the world because I’m weird about golf I don’t want your gimme putt, pal I will no longer be entering nine-hole rounds, GHIN, and you can’t make meI will abandon my friends during a round. Does this make me a bad person?Did I dishonor the game via handicap shenanigans?Rory’s Masters win was the ultimate “dudes crying” moment in golfI want to be a draw alpha, not a fade beta If you had to give up golf or sex for the rest of your life, which would it be?I am the recent victim of golf snobbery, and I’m mad Should the Tour just move to an F1 style schedule and be done with it?I was the world’s most annoying teenage golf maintenance worker Can golf still be a spiritual experience in 2024?There is nothing stranger than a golfer’s brain…just ask us I have the dumbest golf pet peeve, but I can’t shake it If you talk about politics on the course, please, for God’s sake, stop Loving Golf in 2024 is about finding where the money isn’t I believed in the magic of Tiger Woods when I was a kid, but I’m a cynic now If you can enjoy playing golf alone, you have achieved Nirvana I took 12 stitches to the head for golf before I even loved it An annual ‘Friends Ryder Cup’ trip is the greatest thing in golf Marshals at public golf courses need to get way meaner I, and I alone, have the genius tweak to fix the Tour Championship It cannot be fun to play golf when you’re egregiously bad Confession: I break clubs when I’m mad Playing golf in bad weather makes me feel alive Caring what other people think of your golf game is annoying to other people Sympathize with Rory, because choking sucks