Two things connect you to the club: the hands and the head. One thing connects the hands and the head: the heart. To play this game you need feel, which comes from the hands, focus which comes from the head, and passion which comes from the heart. Take away any one, and most likely you’re not enjoying the game. Like a bad marriage, you’re just going through the motions. It’s probably a game you should give up and take the clubs to Goodwill, or play once a year so you can still say you play but have a great excuse for why you play so badly or only whack balls at the range so you can use the game for therapy.
The hands are your only connection to the club. Take ahold of a club, any club. Feel the grip, its texture, its lines. Notice its girth, how it tapers, how it telegraphs its subtle messages. Manipulate the club by holding it firmly and turning it all which way. Whichever way your hands go, the clubhead goes. Go ahead, test it out. I’ll bet the clubhead follows the hands every time. So what does that prove, you ask? What have I learned here that I didn’t already know? Just that when you pick up a club to hit your next shot, consider the influence of the hands. Snead said hold the club as you would a small bird. But when you reach the impact zone, that bird may be a hawk. And you don’t want to hold a hawk lightly when it’s trying to fly away.
After the hands, the head comes into play with about a zillion things on its mind. The head has things on its mind? Just listen. Do I have the right club in my hands? How far to the target? What is the target? Which way does the wind blow? Can I clear that lake? I can give myself a better lie, right? Winter rules. OK, spring rules. You get the idea. Whatever the mind can believe, the mind can achieve. Only in golf it more often works in reverse. The head has a way of questioning, of doubting, of weighing options. It has a way of holding on to the hot coals of the last bad shot, the last miserably read putt, the last wedge in the water. The head never seems to be settled, nor does it seem ever satisfied, nor is it willing to give up control to…the heart.
The golfer’s heart comes at you with a big handshake and a Hi, How’ya doin? It plays this game with abandon and a grin and a hit it and find it and hit it again. It’s helpful, this heart. It’ll look for your ball, show you where to hit it, and where the collection areas and false fronts are. This golfer’s heart wants you to do well. It’s a generous heart. It was the heart of a Southern California man I played with the other day while on vacation in Palm Desert–a man who cheered us on and encouraged the other middle aged men and women in our foursome, who helped read putts on greens he knew well, who filled in my divots with sand and seed, and who pointed out the trouble to avoid (if only I’d paid more attention!). He was a true gentle, friendly, and helpful man, who Buddhists would say received instant good karma by finishing the round on a tough Nick Faldo designed-course with two birdies, a par, and a bird on the toughest finishing hole in perhaps all of California for a 79 for this 13 handicapper. Well done and well deserved, Mark! A pleasure playing with you.
Of course the golfer who most comes to mind when considering the epitome of hands, head, and heart is the legend who, sadly, died the other day of a brain tumor: Severiano Ballesteros, better known as Seve. This man did for European golf what Arnold Palmer did for American golf. His hands were such that, in his prime, no shot was impossible. This amazing shotmaker could feel what was needed for any situation confronting him. “I have watched him play 1-irons out of greenside bunkers when just fooling around,” Jack was quoted by the Associated Press. “He could do anything with a golf club and a golf ball.” His course managing head was like radar sizing up any number of factors in about a second and transmitting that information to some situation room in his brain which sent the final impulse to act to his hands. But all that was just mechanics and Seve was more an artist than a mechanic. It was Seve’s heart that added that touch of greatness that defined this man, and inspired an entire golfing world. Hands, head, and heart: Seve had the whole package.
Our goal as golfers is to piece that package together. That is the definition of success. The score is a by-product of our ability to weave together those elements in such a way as to create a beautiful cloth on the embroidered side and a minimum of loose threads on the underside. It’s what Jews call a mensch, a true human being. Golf is the block of marble as the golfer chips away at the creation–him or herself–for the duration of the game–life. Near the end, the score will fade–witness Seve, Arnold, Jack, Bobby, Babe–but what remains is the mark of the man or woman.
I love the comparisons…marriage, karma, Buddhist doctrine…but most of all I love the final line; the score fades but what remains is the mark of the man or a woman. As a struggling “emotional” golfer myself – the book Zen Golf is my new mantra – I take “heart” in what you say about the hands, head, heart meaning of golf.
THE Steve
Thanks, Steve. Glad you enjoyed the piece. I worked hard on that last line. It’s gratifying that you noticed and appreciated it.
Great post! Thanks Stephen.
As always, much thanks for your comments, Richard. Glad you enjoyed the post.
As always a pleasure reading your posts. Thanks.
Thanks so much, Steffen. Glad you enjoy the posts.