Playing golf in bad weather is a mental paradise

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.

In eighth grade, my mom sent me to some kind of a “national youth leadership conference” that I’m sure was—to some degree—scammy. You pay a bunch of money, your kid goes to Washington for a week to play model UN and meet his Congressman for five minutes, and everyone tells themselves that it’s somehow significant for the future. You’ll definitely get into Harvard now! But when I got to D.C., something remarkable happened, and it had nothing to do with the political cosplay—I felt socially bold for the first time in my life. Growing up in a small town, a lot of things are set in stone from a very young age, sometimes for reasons that have nothing to do with you, and even by eighth grade, there’s no wiggle room. If you’re not one of the cool kids—and I was definitely not one of the cool kids—buddy, you’re not breaking into that club.

At the conference, though, it was a totally clean slate with people who knew nothing about me, and nothing but my own actions would determine where I fit in. People can react a few ways to that situation, but I clocked pretty quickly that this was exactly what I needed. It was a heady, wonderful week, and it felt like an escape from the rigidity of my normal life. I made friends, I had fun, and the lingering effect was that it made me excited, rather than afraid, for college and the world beyond. Good job, mom.

Why am I telling you this? Because when I tried to think of an apt comparison for playing golf in crummy fall and winter weather, in wind and rain and cold and maybe even falling snow, this is what came to mind. It may seem uncomfortable at first, but the actual result is that you escape yourself.

I am one of those people who is obsessed with the state of my own game, with the scores I shoot, with my handicap. I’m not good at “just having fun,” and I never will be. I don’t even think I want to be. It’s probably a personal weakness, but it’s also just how my brain operates, and it’s the reason I would never do something like spend $675 to play Pebble Beach—I’m only as happy as my game, and if I stink, I’ll be equally miserable with a view of gorgeous Pacific cliffs as I would be at my public course at home, and then I’ll feel guilty, and then I’ll start worrying that I’m not having any fun despite all the money I paid, and on and on. (Witness how it went when I played in Scotland for the first time.)

But I think I’ve found the only way to escape my natural golf brain: it’s when the weather stinks.

Earlier this week, I went out with my friend Galen to play nine holes in rainy, sub-50 degree weather here in North Carolina. I was grumpy from the start, because I had barely played in six weeks and my game was in shambles. I really wanted to become a single digit handicap this year, but I topped out at 10.7, my team lost our annual friends Ryder Cup match, and as I wrote last week, the time away from the game had robbed me of my skill. Standing on the first tee, I didn’t really want to be there, and the self-pitying part of my brain began to churn up thoughts like, “is it even worth playing this game?”

There was one saving grace, and it was the weather. The fact that we had wind and rain and cold gave me permission to forget everything, from the disappointment of the year to the sorry state of my own game, and I instantly achieved a mental feat that is normally impossible—I stopped caring about my score. How could I, when we were getting battered from hole to hole, when our socks were wet, when the wind was obliterating our irons? We had a built-in excuse to play like hell. I didn’t even bother attempting putts inside five feet, I took extra shots if I wanted (we were the only two people for miles around on the course), and I just enjoyed the day. Somehow, the wet and cold conditions felt amazing to me, because for the first time in a long time on the course, I was free.

I’m not going to pretend I played brilliant golf, or found nirvana, but I hit some good drives and gave myself a nice mental reset. I’m still going to care too much about my score, but this was a reminder that if there’s ever a hope of playing well consistently, or getting into single digits, I need to chill out and stop being so tense and negative. Nine holes in rotten weather was the bracing kick in the pants I needed, and if you suffer from some of the same mental golf ailments that plague me, I can’t recommend it enough. Get the raincoat out, put on the extra layers, and march into the elements—it’s the best way to forget yourself.

FIVE TOUR THOUGHTS, MID-FALL EDITION

1. Everyone is talking about Jordan Gumberg’s hole-out eagle on the final shot of the DP World Tour season to sneak inside the top 115 and retain his tour card, and rightly so, but I wanted to know who he kicked out. The answer is Dylan Frittelli, but because he won last year, he keeps his card anyway. That’s nice that nobody had to suffer because of the fluky shot, but isn’t it annoying how end-of-season golf doesn’t have clean narratives? Make these guys go head to head for their very livelihoods, I say!

2. Normally I’m a fan of British/Irish/Aussie announcers, but come on folks, how about a little emotion for Gumberg’s hole-out! Watch the clip again; it’s like they just woke up from a nap and are a little bit annoyed about it. It’s probably the shot of the year, and they’re narrating a documentary about turtles. Where’s Ian Darke when you need him?

3. A couple weeks ago, I wrote about how golf is unique in that the classic “underdog” stories aren’t as compelling as they might be in a team sport, or even in tennis. There are a few reasons for that, and it remains true today, but it still seems like Michael Brennan winning in his first professional PGA Tour start could be the start of something special. As in, it’s sort of a footnote now because nobody knows his name and it’s fall golf, but the guy is on a legendary heater. He wins three weeks out of four in Canada, gets a sponsor’s exemption, takes down a PGA Tour event and didn’t really even seem nervous playing with a 54-hole lead. It doesn’t change the fact that the leaderboard was uninspiring and he’s competing against football and it’s not a needle-mover, but it’s going to be exciting to see what he can pull off in 2026 against the best players in the world.

4. The Joel Dahmen watch remains the most compelling part of the fall for me, and unfortunately he missed the cut at the Bank of Utah Championship to fall to 108th. Top 100 get to keep their cards, and he’s still just one good finish away from getting there, but with only three events left it’s—to quote Justin Rose—”squeaky bum time.”

5. Don’t look now, but Max Homa might be trending. If Luke Kerr-Dineen with his all arcane black magic swing knowledge believes it, so do I, and finishing his season with a T-9 last weekend (he’s skipping the rest of the fall swing) is a solid sign for 2026. Per Adam Schupak, there’s still plenty of coach carousel drama, and he was seen limping in Utah, but hopefully a little rest gets him prepped for a comeback. We need all the interesting personalities we can get.

THE DUMB TAKE I KIND OF BELIEVE

Daylight savings time is terrible, and there are a lot of debates about how to resolve it or whether to abolish it, and there are even some complicated map-based solutions (I like this site where you can set your preferences and it draws up time zones), but I have a better idea: Just adjust the time incrementally, day by day, so sunset is always at 9 p.m. No matter where you are, the clocks change by a couple minutes every night so the sun is always going down precisely at nine, and we can play golf after work all year. I cannot foresee any problem with this. We have the tech! Someone tell Trump.

READER EMAIL OF THE WEEK

Here’s Kyle, with a short but sweet account of some truly insane weather behavior:

Played in a Chili Open Scramble one year when the ground was pretty much completely frozen and it was 20 degrees out I think. Course was eventually going to close so they weren’t really worried about the course being frozen and getting ruined. Went up to the practice green and dropped a ball from my waist and it bounced up just below my waist because the ground was so hard. Opened a beer on the first tee and then went to try and take another drink once we reached the fairway but the beer was completely frozen. We had to use hand warmers to unfreeze our beers.

Using hand warmers to unfreeze beer in subzero weather on a doomed course? Kyle is a man who has forgotten his ordinary woes and entered a new plane of being. I tip my cap.

Previously on Golfpocalypse:

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