A lifelong goal
Last time, I wrote about breaking par for the first time from the red tees. It felt good, and was surprisingly difficult. But it also didn’t feel like it really “counted”. After all, the course played only about 4800 yards. It had been more of a random experiment than an achievement, or something I’d worked towards.
But I was still focused on the goal of breaking par, which I’d wanted to do my whole life. So eventually, I decided to start playing more often from the white tees to give myself a better chance.
I’d been playing the blues almost by habit ever since I was in high school. I’m not a long hitter, so I rarely play from more than 6500-6600 yards, but typically I had too much pride to play from the whites. I thought of myself as “too good” to play the whites. But I also knew that with my current game it would be hard to break par from the blue tees at most courses. So I started playing from the whites at my regular course, Avery Ranch.
Playing from the whites
Phase 2 of my plan to break par started out pretty well. Looking back at my GHIN history, I can see the positive progression. I shot in the high 70s the first time out, and it felt good to break 80. The next time, I shot a 77, and a week later I fired a 74, which felt like it came out of the blue when I didn’t really even have my best stuff. I’d been just two silly mistakes away from my goal! Seeing that 74 on the card felt special, and it was — I’d only done better once in my life.
Playing from the whites was a lot of fun. I made more birdies, got to go for more par 5s in two, and hit fewer long irons, especially on par 3s. It’s fun to hit fun shots and shoot lower scores — the game doesn’t always have to be so hard.
Even if you think you’ve graduated from the whites, I’d encourage you to tee it forward more often. I get paired up all the time with guys who play from the blue tees and don’t break 100, and they usually look miserable. I think 70-80% of the golfers I see playing from the blues would enjoy the game more if they played from the whites.
After these few rounds, I took some time off from the par chase to practice for the annual tournament I play with some friends from high school, which I ended up winning for the first time. My game felt really good. Success felt inevitable.
The choke
Riding high after my big win, I went back out a couple weeks later and played from the whites again. I was brimming with confidence and the game felt easy.
After a decent start to the round, I was +1 through 14 holes. I hadn’t played my best, but I’d avoided mistakes and made a lot of pars. Then, I birdied the par-5 15th to get back to even par. Then, I pitched my approach on the short par-4 16th to about 3 feet and tapped in another birdie.
All of a sudden, I was surprised to find myself one under with two to play, my goal easily in reach. I just needed a par and a bogey, and I knew I could do that. But it felt like it had come out of nowhere.
The par-three 17th hole has a forced carry over a lake. I took an extra club to make sure I cleared it, since coming up short in the lake felt like the only mistake I couldn’t make. My ball ended up just long over the green, leaving me a downhill chip back to the hole — not ideal, but definitely the better miss. Standing over the shot, I felt confident. “Don’t leave it short,” I thought to myself. “Let’s get up and down for par and we’ll have pretty much have this in the bag.”
Reader, I chipped over the green. Not a blade, or a chunk, or anything like that — I just swung too hard. An absolute brain fart at the biggest moment of the round. I watched the ball disappear over the far edge of the green, rolling down towards the lake. I hadn’t even considered that as a possibility.
The ball got caught up in the long grass by the water’s edge, so at least it stayed out of the hazard, and I managed to chip my third shot back up to about 8 feet or so. But I couldn’t make the bogey putt. A double bogey on the 17th meant I was back to +1. My stomach was numb.
I needed to birdie 18 to achieve my goal. Summoning everything left in the tank, I hit a great drive, and followed it up with a good wedge, leaving me about 12 feet for a 72. The putt stayed just high on the left, and I tapped in for a one-over 73.
The aftermath
For days after, I couldn’t believe it. I had had my dream there in my hands and I had simply choked. The wind was taken completely out of my sails. It was the end of the summer, and I ended up not playing for a few months, partly because the season was ending, but partly, I think, out of shock.
In my mind, at least there was a silver lining: I knew I could do it. I was one bad chip away from doing it. If I could have just gotten down in 3 from barely off the green, I would have done it. So surely the next time I would do it.
Here’s what followed over the next several months, according to my GHIN: 80, 79, 82, 75, 79, 84, 77. Not even close, really.
It was demoralizing. I began to feel like Sisyphus. I was putting so much pressure on myself. I’d stand on the first tee and already have butterflies. And if I hit a bad tee shot, it felt like the whole day was ruined. In almost all of these rounds, I knew after about 7 holes I didn’t really have a chance to shoot a 72. So in my head, I was thinking, “what am I even doing out here?” Why didn’t I go back to the blues if I wasn’t going to sniff par?
Because I had boiled my entire golf experience down to one goal, I didn’t give myself space to think about anything else.
In the end, it took almost a year to get another chance — stay tuned for part 3 to read about it.
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