The week of The Masters is often considered the unofficial start of golf season for many in the northern states. The blooming azaleas, the chirping birds, and the impossibly green grass of Augusta National signal renewal and rebirth. A revival of optimism as a new season is blank slate of empty scorecards, dreams of a personal best score, and hopes for our best year on the golf course.
In New Jersey and many surrounding states, golf season "officially" begins on April 1. For those who maintain a handicap, this is the date that golfers' scores count toward their handicap scoring record. April 1 is seemingly an appropriate day, as many of us are fooled into a false sense of brightness for our first round.
This year - with an assist from golf Twitter - I am going to write a golf journal. It's not going to be complicated, just some logistical information about the round (date, course, weather, score, strokes gained in various categories), what I thought I did well, what I thought I can improve on, and just an overall, culminating observation about the round.
Here's some of those observations about my first two rounds of the active golf season.
Enthusiasm on the first tee shot of the season is predictably at an all-time high. Even with a winter golf trip to Pinehurst and a pre-round warm up, my swing was still very much stuck in winter hibernation.
I purposely chose a golf course with wide open fairways, few bunkers, and relatively benign greens to get my golf season going. You know, a place to really build the confidence, shoot a low score, and gain some positive momentum for the upcoming season.
I played as a single and met the rest of my group on the first tee. There's something simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying about that first tee shot of the season, especially playing with three strangers. The first swing of rounds playing with people you meet on the tee can set the tone for the round. Can this guy play or will it be a long day? Would my swing resemble that of a seasoned pro, or would I end up looking more like someone trying to swat a fly with a broomstick?
It was the latter.
My first swing sent the ball careening off into the rough between the parallel first and second fairways, narrowly missing a family of geese.
The front nine continued in a similar fashion.
Then, the back nine showed me what was possible. Long straight drives, approach shots landing on greens, comfortably two-putting, maybe this game is easy after all.
The positive momentum and reassurance that, yes, I can play this game, appeared. I was ready for the next weekend's round.
Armed with the knowledge and confidence from the last round's back nine, seven days later I headed back out onto the course for round two. This time, I played my home course. It's certainly more challenging than the course I played the week prior, but maybe I could keep showing the golf ball who's the boss.
The golf ball had other plans and reasserted dominance: the ball was still the boss.
Yeah, it was a windy day on the course. It always is at the my home course. That's no excuse.
I hit the ball well! Contact was great! It just had a mind of its own with regard to direction. And when I got out of position (which was often) I couldn't do anything well to score.
It was a frustrating day. And after a chunked chip on 14, a three-putt on 15, and topped drive on the 16th tee (and being dormie in the match), I kind of gave up caring. And that is not how you improve at golf or how you learn to deal with adversity. As the saying goes, no one cares what you shoot. But I care what I shoot. And it's important to keep grinding out there and not give up. That will help when it's time to post a score that actually counts, like in a state qualifier or club tournament.
It was a learning experience. You can be that was the culminating thought that went in the journal. That will make me better in the next round and all other rounds.
The other overarching realization from the rounds: pick up allergy medicine on the way home. It's pollen season.
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