The Demise of Professional Golf

I was watching the first couple of tournaments recently and was astounded at how lackluster the field was. I would guess the ratings were in the tank, as the only things that would draw viewers were the warm venues. Personally, I tuned into the match between Sam Snead and Bob Hope instead of seeking out David Toms and Mark Wilson. Over at the Champions Tour, there was Brad Bryant apologizing for his 65, more surprised than anyone that he chipped and putted his way to the top of the leaderboard. Tiger hadn’t started his season yet, flying off to Dubai for a huge appearance fee and a joust with the crackerjacks of the European Tour. This blog has predicted he will win just about everything this year, and has advised him to do so then quit competitive golf and concentrate on his foundation. Bobby Jones did this, as did Byron Nelson, and they had no sex scandals to face down. Whether Tiger stays or goes, professional golf goes downhill. He could stay and dominate, or he could go and fade away. Either way, golf suffers. The current crop in their late 20s and early 30s are not strong enough to hold up the high bar of professional golf on all levels of accomplishment. Woods was the last of the lot, and look at the bloody mess he left behind, an irreparable heap of emotional horsecrap laying by the side of the road. And please, don’t feed me all the sanctimonious BS about Tiger haters. I don’t hate Tiger. I’m angry at him for taking himself down along with the game he built up.

Golf requires what the Buddhists call impeccability, which is essentially keeping the crossbar high, very high, throughout one’s career and life. You can’t separate out life, career, family, marriage. Nor can you blithely commit transgressions in life and then demand absolution, ala the Gringrich who stole Christmas. There are actions we take. There are consequences arising from those actions. Whether those actions be criminal or moral in nature, there are consequences, and we must make adjustments to compensate for those consequences. We humans are clever at devising ways to forgive, but rarely do we forget, and it’s the forgetting that is the cornerstone of true forgiving. Forgiving without forgetting is like eating without digesting: What goes out looks a lot like what went in.

Disgusting intestinal references aside, impeccability is a responsibility of us humans. It takes a high degree of awareness and mindfulness, which is why I write so much about  these traits. They are not easy to put into practice, so we have to practice. Just like a fundamentally sound golf swing, you have to practice an impeccable life. It won’t happen on its own. Like water in a container, impeccability needs to take the shape of the container, namely your mind and soul, until every action has a reasonable chance of landing on an impeccable mark. If I were Tiger Woods, I’d be fighting desperately to regain that impeccability, and golf would not be the venue of the battle. Every moment on the golf course is a potential battle since it tests every cell, mental and physical, but when a player strays off the course of life away from golf, he needs to put his full attention to climbing back on the road. To not do so is a very dangerous direction indeed. I’m not just spouting lava out the top of my head: I’ve been there.

This year Woods has my full support, but only this year. Win the Grand Slam, and quit. Or don’t win the Grand Slam, and quit. Either way, you can make a name for yourself. As for the rest of the automatons out there, punch up your games, would you. Making money is not really what professional golf is all about. You can sell insurance and make money. Professional golf is about playing your goddamned heart out. It’s about winning, sure, but it’s really about playing full out. I like that TV spot where Tom Lehman, who plays with a whole lot of passion, mentors Kevin Streelman that he didn’t play his best last week. He asks Streelman what he can do about that. “Get to work,” Streelman answers grittily though sheepishly, not used to such directness in a teacher. Lehman doesn’t shit around. Never did. He’s one hundred percent on every shot. No, Lehman doesn’t shit around. All of the clothing store mannequins out there should watch that spot and soak it in. One hundred percent on every shot, as the shadows of Jones, Nelson, Sarazen, Hogan, Ouimet, Seve, Jack, Arnie, Player, Zaharius,Floyd, Miller, Faldo, Watson, Trevino, Irwin, Lopez, Stewart, and all the others who treated golf like it was a passion play, hover above. And yes, Woods, maybe the most passionate of them all. But Woods blew out all his gaskets, like Robert Johnson at the Crossroads.

For if professional golf can’t get back its mojo, and the way I see it Europeans like McIlroy, McDowell, Manasero, and Donald represent the best hope, then it’s up to us amateurs to save the game. And just how are we to do that? By playing golf, of course. A lot of golf. And playing within the rules, the main one being to play it as it lies. With that one rule, you approach impeccability in golf. In fact, throw every other rule out and play with that one alone and you will have elevated the game to a transcendent position among sports and games. For what other amateur penalizes himself when no one is looking? It’s extraordinary enough when a pro does it. But when an amateur moves a ball and notches a penalty stroke, the heavens shake with pride. That’s my man. That’s my woman, the clouds thunder. That’s the peak of impeccability. That’s what I’m talking about! That’s what I’m talking about!