A dreadful tale as old as time

I arrive at my brother-in-law’s home in Birmingham, AL.

It’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other, but we get right down to business.

He shares with me something along these lines:

“It’s been some time since I’ve been out there on the course, but I went out this morning and things got started pretty hot. Clean, straight drive off the tee, on the green in two, near miss for birdie, tap in par.

I’m feeling great.

Second hole, another beauty off the tee. I start to think that maybe I’ve finally put some key pieces together. Maybe this round looks a little different from rounds of old. Maybe, just maybe, we do something special today.

Naturally, the tides turn for the worse — and quickly. Not regarding quality of play, but regarding the elements. The clouds roll in, the rain comes down, and we have to call it a day.”

We grieve together momentarily.

So here are a few notes on the “what could have beens” to send you into your Saturday afternoon:

There is a beauty to the what ifs, an optimism if you will — especially if you were playing well before a forced stoppage. You have the opportunity to announce that you were “on pace for [fill in the blank].” You know, on pace to break 90, on pace to shoot your best in a while.

No one would be able to confirm nor deny your announcement, but every golfer knows deep down it’s not worth much if it doesn’t actually happen.

If you’re only out to play nine holes and you card a 41, you can shout with confidence, “had we played all eighteen, I may have broken 80.” This is despite the fact that you displayed your best work ever on the easier nine the course had to offer.

There may even be relief to closing shop early on a round poorly played. Someone may ask you how you played, and you can simply shrug it off — “well the weather was tough, and no I didn’t play great, but we didn’t get to finish, so really… it’s hard to say how things would have shaped up.”

In reality, it’s quite easy to say. Sure the weather may have been sub par, but you certainly were not, and two more hours on the course could not change that.

Though it may mean less golf, the inability to finish 18 holes may occasionally be what’s best for your mental, even if you don’t know it.

As a regular 9-hole golfer, the what ifs abound. My most recent round, I carded a 39 on the back nine at one of the local spots. My best full round on that course was a modest 88. I would have had to play very average (even poor) golf if I wanted to best myself.

But alas, nine holes were all that were granted to me that morning. “What if??” I repeated throughout the day. I tell myself an 82 was well within range, and 85 was sure. But there was no way to tell, and therefore, I cannot tell someone that I have achieved such a number, for I have not.

So too is the pain of not being able to redeem yourself after a poor nine holes or a poor start. When rain washes you off the course after two straight doubles, your emotional tank drains to empty despite plenty more in the physical tank.

As for my brother-in-law…

A slow start can be mended, and a fast start can unravel in the end. But I would argue that a good start settles you in, calms the nerves, lowers the heart rate.

So when you feel like you’re in for something special, but the rain has other plans for you, you’re sure to be left with a big what if?

The two of us will share the course in a short few days, and we’ll know then if the key pieces had been figured out, or if it was just two holes of bliss.

To clarify, it is far worse to get rained out when you’re swinging the sticks well. No doubt about it.

And still, we live to golf another day despite the elements that do their best to deter us.

We approach next week’s tee box full of optimism, searching somewhere in ourselves “the stuff we had last time.” It may work. It may not.

Still, no reason not to get out there. May the rain hold off on you this week.

Cheers,

Luke Mangan