There is Nothing Stranger Than a Golfer's Brain

Just ask us.

If I'm not careful, superstitions will own me on the golf course. I'll become a paranoid, twitchy mess with 3,000 rituals to perform on every shot, and nobody will ever want to play with me. And to my credit, I mostly stay out of their clutches. I have some basic comfort-level rules I abide by—two extra balls in the left pocket, divot tool and mark in the right—but even my pre-shot routine is very basic, consisting of just a single practice swing followed by the real deal. To the naked eye, I think I seem like a normal golfer. More or less.

But inside the brain? Hoo boy. There is so much happening, and a lot of it is blatantly nuts. More than nuts, you could call it self-deluding, egomaniacal and maybe even narcissistic, because it goes beyond superstition and into the realm of self-narrated fantasy.

For example: You, the observer, might believe that my success or failure on a given shot is a matter or technique and execution, but in my mind I am being blessed or cursed by higher universal forces. If I'm having a good round, I imagine there's a secret gallery living and dying with every shot, and I'l sometimes conduct imaginary interviews about the round as it's happening. (In this respect, I am almost exactly like a 10-year-old kid shooting baskets in his driveway, imagining he's in the NBA Finals ... except I'm a 41-year-old dude with kids of my own, which is perhaps mildly more pathetic.) As we'll get to in the reader email section below, I assign character traits to individual balls based on past performance, and reward or punish them accordingly. You want to slice on me, old Callaway triple track? Guess who's staying in the pocket on the next tee. Save your tears—you brought this on yourself.

I could go on—it's one lunatic thing after another. The thing is, though, so much of it comes to the forefront of my mind unbidden. It's the constant brain noise that golf invites, and I think I do a pretty good job of letting it flow through me without indulging it to any damaging degree. As I said, if I gave in to the darker impulses, I'd probably be one of those neurotics you find on the range who own 300 sets of clubs, or I'd force myself to recite a 3-minute mantra before each swing. Luckily, I've largely fought off those demons. And I am very grateful that nobody has figured out a way to project the thoughts running through my head to a larger audience, because even in my restrained form, I'd probably be committed.

Here's the thing, though ... that's kind of the appeal. Right? Golf has a way of absorbing 100% of your mental energy in a way that can be freeing. If your mind is consumed with technique, and score, and routine, or even the broader narrative of your round, you're not thinking about the world burning or wondering why your kid suddenly seems really into watching videos of sharks eating seals or fantasizing about telling off your terrible boss/wife. (For the record, I love my bosses and my wife, albeit in different ways.) In the escapism that golf provides, it's very much like a drug, which is why a lot of recovering addicts find golf so useful—you can spend four-plus hours free of your cravings. I used to play with a recovering heroin addict who would literally play 54 holes every weekend day for that exact reason.

As such, it's a salutary madness. I have a secret opinion that almost every human on earth is about 50% weirder than you'd think, and I can't think of a better way to safely indulge that insanity than golf. One of my friends, for instance, mutters to himself after mistakes in extended monologues that are just barely audible to the rest of us. He looks like a headcase, but he is in fact a very successful human being and plenty of fun to be around. Clearly, he needs this outlet.

by Shane Ryan, Golf Digest |  Read more:

Image: Karl Hendon
[ed. I say golf is a negative game (for most of us). What other sport involves so much focus on not screwing up? See also: Nobody cares about your golf game.]