For the record...

Click the picture to open up "my philosophy"...The competence jargon finds its roots in a popular learning model called the conscious competence learning model. Just making sure I give credit where credit is due.

Swagger

My college golf coach spent the greater part of my second and third year on the golf team preaching about swagger; having an attitude that radiated confidence and buoyancy, but wasn’t drenched in conceit. I never quite knew how to do that. I knew exactly what he meant by it. Everybody on the team knew what he meant. But we had never won anything as a team. It was tough to puff your chest and expect people to know who you were on the driving range if other coaches had gotten in the habit of calling you “University of Misery” under their breath, instead of University of Missouri.

Nonetheless, swagger came to certain individuals on the team, but only as a direct result of a few fantastic individual efforts. The roster as it was, never did amass enough swagger to capture a team title though.

As a coach now, it always intrigues me working with a student who either has a nice playing resume and no swagger or no resume and an abundance of swagger. Some of the best athletes and teams in the world struggle to master the art of establishing dominance over their opponent before they’ve played a second of competition or even spoken a single word to each other. Recently, Tiger Woods spoke of doubts he had in his mind before winning the 2008 US Open on a torn ACL and two stress fractures in his left leg. How in the world does Tiger Woods doubt himself? Before taking the pitch in group play of the 2008 UEFA Euro Cup, the Spanish national team, widely recognized as the odds-on favorite on paper, recorded a song which, roughly translated, was titled “Let’s Make it Past the Quarterfinals.” How does a team of global all-stars find solace in finishing short of the title? Tough to explain.

Stories of self-doubt run rampant in modern athletics and the sport of golf seems to host a high percentage of those offenders. I recently played a 5-hole pro-rated match against a student of mine who has one of the more “homegrown” swings at Winnetka Golf Club. His move is uniquely his, and nobody will ever try to imitate it, let alone teach it. To put it nicely, he looks like he is trying to throw a 20 pound medicine ball underhand up into the top branches of a tree.

Last week he came cruising out of the parking lot, five minutes late for a lesson, dripping in swagger. I could tell he was not in a rush to make up for lost time. Rather, he wanted a match. He was playing to a 12 and I to a plus 3. However, on the five holes we played that day, I only had to concede three strokes. Funny thing was, that felt to me more like 10 or 12 shots. Not only did I feel overwhelmed on the first tee, but he hit just about every shot the way he envisioned it. He made bogey on the final hole to allow me a lucky halve of the match.

His swagger was oppressive, right out of the gates, and almost negated the 15 strokes that separate our handicaps. He knew how he was going to play every hole and might as well have called his shot before every stroke. Commitment and confidence provide him with an incredible ability to repeat his seemingly unrepeatable motion.

On the other hand, I teach an up-and-coming young stud who plays No.1 for one of the perennial powerhouse high school programs in the state. His experience is limited, but he compiled a few medalist trophies during his junior year campaign the most impressive of which came from the Catholic League Championships and jump started a very impressive run through the state tournament. Area players know his name, have seen his game and are always slightly intimidated when teeing it up in the same event. Simply put, he is easily intimidated and has a difficult time using his imposing reputation to his advantage.

I’m learning that swagger is a tough trait to teach, especially to a kid who is not used to thinking like a hunter or a hungry competitor on the golf course. Notably, it is difficult to distinguish between being humble, polite and quiet and wanting to beat somebody by so many strokes that they think about quitting golf as a result.

I wonder if the swing and all its mechanics can be taught, but the hunger, passion and desire to win and compete are traits bestowed upon the best athletes because of nature, not nurture? The best want to not only win, but they want to win by a suffocating and decisive margin. That margin should breed confidence and, consequently, swagger. I didn't answer anything here...only raised more questions. Stay tuned...

The Healing Sport, Part I

Building on my theory that there is a deeper reason to why people take golf lessons, I truly believe there is a similar depth to the reason people play the sport in the first place.

Golf has an incredibly therapeutic power that can help the mind and body cope with much more than just a bad week or stressful personal life.

Three examples come to mind right away.

Two years ago, the father of a best friend from high school was killed in a car accident. Nothing strikes at the core of a community like sudden death. He was a pioneer and a trailblazer for junior golfers not only in Illinois, but across the country. He had a presence that could be felt from fairways away and the unmistakable silhouette of a coach and proud father. At the time, this was the closest that the deadly mortar of death had ever struck.

No words could help ease the pain, no gesture could reverse time. However, memories from rounds past brought calm to turbulent water and tears of joy when tears of pain had yet to dry.

While I’m not convinced that the tears of pain will ever dry in a situation like this, it is refreshing to know that the relationships and memories forged by the game can provide some, if brief, balance when clarity is lacking and direction doesn’t make sense. Now, each year, a memorial golf tournament honors Bruce’s life and accomplishments, and, naturally, brings smiles that can heal.

From Bob’s perspective, the healing process has relied solely on golf. When his wife was suddenly taken two months ago, there was nobody to go home to anymore. His daughter was still at school and, well, that’s it. Now, at the end of the work day, the house he returned to was just as cold and undisturbed as when he left 12 hours prior.

As expected, the process is never completely over and the pain is never completely subdued, but when Bob tapped in a 5-footer on the 16th hole this morning at 8 a.m., turned to me, put his right hand on my shoulder and said, “How much fun is this?”, I knew that golf was doing its job. Only two months after finding his wife motionless in bed, golf had taken his lost soul and at least pointed it in the right direction.

There’s no telling if any sport or friendship will ever point Barbara’s soul in the right direction. Just 10 days after losing her son in a car accident, her husband lost his long-time battle with cancer. Can you imagine that? Losing a son and a husband in less than 10 days? This week, the golfing community that she and her former husband have associated with for more than 15 years will offer their comfort and support while allowing Anne to take the healing process in palatable doses.

It is amazing to me that the friendships and relationships created through the medium of golf can serve as the band-aid that may not completely heal, but certainly point a lost friend down the path to recovery.

Get Your (lines) Straight

Politics…stars…wheels...your career…life. All require alignment, in some form. All require alignment to set forth, to plan, to strategize, to guide and, to be honest, to succeed and understand.

Right now, alignment is pissing me off.

How do you know where you are and where you’re going if you don’t know how to get there?

From grip and posture to swing path and weight transfer, a player can do everything I ask of him, top to bottom. But if your mind is pointed towards the target and your body is 40 yards right, there is going to be a conflict. Parallel lines will intersect, and reaching our goal suddenly becomes a struggle.

The question is, even with the absence of direction and parallel lines, does that mean I’m not succeeding? Depends how you look at it. From a “here and now” perspective, I’m probably not shooting as low as I want to. But for a sport that prides itself on eternally dangling happiness in front of your face without ever letting you grab hold, the here and now, the “sprint” if you will, should not be as important as the marathon.

In my world as a player and teacher, if you are learning, you are succeeding. So what did I learn last week by aiming 40 yards right and slicing every employee in the bag for three rounds? I learned that I can beat people even with a below average effort…my short game is a whole lot better for it…and I learned that without my bearings, without goals and a guide, it is tough to reach the top.

Success is not what you are doing here and now. Rather, it is how you apply in the future what you learn and experience in the here and now.

The Healing Sport, Part II

The first day I met Karen, it was a dreary, overcast day, typical of late spring and early summer near the lake. She brought a friend both because she needed someone at the time, and because she was about to journey down a path she had never considered before.

A lifelong English teacher, her husband’s deteriorating health threatened to make her first year away from diagramming sentence structures and book reports the antithesis of retirement.

Although nervous on that exact day, Karen’s unassuming and cheery smile didn’t reveal a single hint about her new day job. She will never tell you about her struggle unless you ask, and even then she dismisses the questions with a tired, lazy tone that seems to suggest she’s just doing what any other loving wife or spouse would do too.

For over three years, Karen and I have worked together on building, at face value, a golf swing that would allow her to meet new people, enjoy a new hobby and maybe someday play on the intimidating 18-hole golf course. Little did I know at the time, had any of those missions gone unaccomplished it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

Karen could care less how much I know about golf. As a retired teacher she is undoubtedly more interested in my communication style, grammar proficiency and availability than my high tech computer and camera system. She is much more interested in finding out whether or not I can provide her with a release, an escape from the rigors of her new job. She needed a way to feel rewarded for her efforts off the course and at home.

Her husband is finally on the road to recovery after three spinal fusion surgeries, the most recent of which completely fused his spine top to bottom, and three years of unrelenting rehabilitation. Although he will never be able to tie his own shoes again, doctors are cautiously optimistic that he will one day wake up with less pain or the fear of permanent nerve damage. 8 hours a day, five days a week for five more weeks of intense therapy and rehabilitation is all that separates Karen from a new husband and her husband from playing with his grandson Ben with relative freedom.

Of course, doctors are not the only ones responsible for this miraculous turn of fate. Karen’s tireless care and patience for the past three years, during which she was able to use the game of golf to cope with the stress of living with and providing around-the-clock care for a live-in “patient”, has undoubtedly taken its toll. Hospital doctors have even required that she spend time with a hospital psychologist to relearn how to communicate with a healthy, functioning spouse.

As rehabilitation nears an end, Karen took the last five minutes of a short game lesson recently to reflect on the past three years, the unsuspecting and monumental role of the sport of golf, and the relationships it has provided.

She was at a loss for words when she asked what she would have done with herself if that dreary overcast day three years ago hadn’t worked out as planned.

I ask myself what the effect would have been had I chosen to train a client instead of forge a relationship.

Great Quote Today:

Sometimes people are so busy planning their next move that they forget to be great where they are.

--Russ Pennell,
Arizona interim head basketball coach

The Characters and my Hats

Character development in the book of real life is easy, they simply come to me. Not the characters, but the people. I just sit back and watch, listen or interact. There’s no pressure to tie up loose ends or to bring a plot back around full circle. In real life, the characters are who they are, and most of them come to me for a reason. One reason or another, I am supposed to help. The characters that come to me I couldn’t create with twice the arrogance my boss says I walk around the club with. Crazy as they are, the real challenge lies in determining why they seek my help.

What is their motive?

Yes, on the surface they all want to be better golfers. But that is where the average instructor hangs his hat and calls it a day. I’m not trying to be everything to everyone, but whether considered from the perspective of a journalist or a teacher, the question is equally compelling…Or a psychiatrist, or a friend, or a confidant. I guess that explains the compelling nature of the question, right? Everyone wears several hats in their day to day life it’s just not always by choice. A good instructor must wear all hats, and never hang one idle. A good instructor must WANT to wear all hats and have a passion for wearing all hats.

Listen to me…I refer to my students with words such as “them” and “their” as if they are mindless, spiritless figure heads. To me, actually, my students are more than just golfers. They are people with stories to tell. Stories that are communicated through a common medium, with a unique language, in an environment driven by instant gratification and lack of independent thought. In their stories, the characters are already developed, but the issues are largely unresolved. The solutions, at least the worthwhile ones, lie way beyond posture and ball position. Their personalities, attitudes and environments are what drive my philosophy on the game, which, if you care to know, has more to do with self-sufficiency than it does the laws and principles of the golf swing.

For most of my students, the reason why they are at odds with the game can be realized through their motive to take lessons or seek help. To them, my role is to shave strokes from their already disingenuous handicap. From a dollar-per-hour perspective, that is probably true. But to be honest, a student’s interpretations of the shortcomings that plague their golf swing often are mentioned in the same breath as the shortcomings that plague their day-to-day life. It is very interesting because the former is oftentimes a function of the latter. It goes something like this:”I’m hitting everything to the right these days, but I am going through a divorce right now and I haven’t had much time to practice,” as if to imply that a failed marriage gave them an open clubface.

Suddenly my role changes. Does Brian really need help with his short game, or does he need an hour of clarity every week to help focus on something other than an impending divorce? Does Chris need help with his balance, or does he need 30 minutes every week to share stories about his wife who recently passed away? Does Shawn need help with swing plane, or is he trying to learn how to be a more tolerant, efficient communicator as partner and chief operating officer of a downtown public relations firm? (Debatable whether or not this is the reason why I am not still working for him:)

All good questions and are just a few of the hats that I donned this week. I develop relationships, not pretty golf swings. And I operate under the impression that people could care less how much I know until they know how much I care.

Self-Sufficiency

Self-sufficiency...The two words that are my alignment, my goal, and the intended result of every encounter I have with a student. Without these words to guide my communication, I am just another teacher trying to impress a student with how much I think I know about golf. How boring is that?

My philosophy owes its personality and character to the manner in which I learned the game, and the environment that I grew up in…which, for the record, is a breeding ground for self-INsufficiency. It is an effort to explain that golf is great because there is nobody else to blame failure or success on but yourself.

In an affluent area, the constant clamor of silver spoons tends to drown out the importance and need for self-sufficiency. The little devil on my shoulder loves the fact that the sport is almost a big, huge “F You!” to every parent who blames me because their kid didn’t make the high school golf team; or every parent who wants to take their kid (who, of course, has more talent in their eyes than Tiger Woods) to another instructor because I’m not doing my job.

Although this philosophy is designed around juniors, it can be applied to golfers of all ages. It emphasizes my role as an instructor and something that is frequently overlooked in a student/teacher relationship: the role of the student. Go figure, huh? You mean to tell me that you can’t just spend $10,000 on golf lessons and training aids and expect to lower your handicap?

For a kid who has been given everything in their life…an allowance, a car, a college education, trendy summer vacations off the coast of a trendier European destination, an eternal “get-out-of-jail-free” card…golf is the classic mind-fuck. It goes against everything that they have grown accustomed to. The best get it, the spoiled usually don’t.

190 yards over water into the wind doesn’t accept a “get-out-of-jail-free” card. A 3-foot, downhill slider doesn’t care how many zeros there are in daddy’s bank account. Those who don’t know anything about self-sufficiency or how to figure out a difficult situation on their own are completely exposed and vulnerable to the virtues of an individual sport.

The best golfers know how to manage themselves, their swing, their mind and their game on their own. After all, there’s no one else to blame.