Lessons from the Bunker

When I turned 14, I got a summer job mowing lawns. $6 an hour, all in. Operating a zero-turn Scag mower in the Michigan sunshine was a sweaty, thrilling experience for a 130-pound redhead with the most Irish of complexions.

I loved that job. Even more, I loved the golf course less than a mile down the road. Hadley Acres Golf Course, or “Country Club” as they unironically refer to it, is by no means a destination. It is the definition of “cow pasture golf,” but the open layout and, more importantly, the low cost were perfect for a country boy looking to spend a couple hours after work lobbing golf balls into the woods and learning the fundamentals of possibly the greatest sport on Earth. What I learned out there was invaluable, although I did not understand the lessons at the time.

As I got older the courses I played became nicer and my enthusiasm for the game burned brighter with each passing year. Looking back, I can pinpoint certain moments throughout my experiences that stood out: squinting to watch the ball disappear into the hole after a blind Hail Mary shot from 130 yards; wandering the frigid, crystalline Scottish coastline looking for my Titleist among the heather-covered rough; marching upward to the 18th green at Arcadia Bluffs, lockstep with the sound of bagpipes drifting from the clubhouse; twisting my body and my iron to divert my ball from a gang of palm trees near the snowcapped Santa Rosa Mountains.

It is all magical in my mind. A green, safe place I return to when I am overwhelmed or anxious. These memories bring peace, warmth, and a blessed weightlessness to my inner soul.

But those moments are intertwined with the reality of the game. Over the decades, there have been plenty of shanks, broken windows, scalded skin, headaches, hangovers, and blisters. I argue that is what keeps us coming back. Elation followed by heartache. Anguish and jubilation. Rinse, repeat, and a round of crispy-cold Coors from the cart girl.

Learning to bounce back is a fundamental necessity in life, and that lesson is learned early in golf. A wayward slice into the pine trees will cause a level-headed golfer to pause, consider the options, approach the ball, and release it from the rough with skill and poise.

The same cannot be said for the temperamental golfer. Cursing with reckless abandon, he hurries, scrambles, and attempts to dislodge the ball with improper form, damaging his club, his scorecard, and his reputation. This is our base instinct: to argue, blame, and muscle our way out of an uncomfortable situation.

The older I get, the more lessons I take from golf. It is indeed a gentleman’s game. As in life, it is full of tradition, written and unwritten rules, and a certain code of conduct. It can be played in a myriad of ways and by people of all skill levels.

When I get paired with men in their seventies and eighties, I am always impressed by their ability to score well without ever overpowering the ball off the tee. They hit it straight and lean, and the ball always, always stays in play. Patient precision over hard-headed dominance. Perhaps a metaphor for a life well lived.

Another lesson golf teaches is the ability to quickly forget and move on. There are 18 holes on a golf course and 1,001 ways to ruin a round. As in life, you will land in the water. Sand traps will test your patience. Balls go missing, friends fluff their scorecards, and the weather can be unforgiving and unpredictable.

The trick is to be prepared and move on. Memory of a goldfish and the determination of a badger. You do not have to be perfect. Shooting par is something the pros do, and even they cannot perform this way all the time.

Try a simple reframing trick I learned: play bogey golf.

For the uninitiated, par is what many golfers aim for. If a hole is a par four, an experienced golfer should be able to finish it in four strokes: a drive from the tee box, an iron shot onto the green, and two putts down and into the hole. In a perfect world, par is the reward for all our practice and toiling.

But many of us are not seasoned golfers, and we become discouraged when we swing the club five, six, or seven time to finish the hole.

On the contrary. That is excellent golf.

A bogey is one stroke over par: four strokes on a par three, five on a par four, and so on. If a player can consistently bogey or double bogey each hole, they are considered a solid golfer.

So, in this blessed sport and in everyday life, start thinking about bogey golf. If you make par, good on you. But most of the time, one or two strokes over is damn fine work when accomplished consistently. Admirable even. It is all about reframing your mindset.

There is a worthy feeling of accomplishment when the final putt quietly tumbles into the hole. Scorecards are tallied, perhaps a beer is shared in the clubhouse, memories are created, stories fabricated.

The camaraderie and the time outdoors is what keeps me coming back. The sweet smell of freshly cut grass mingling gently with sunscreen and pine forests on a beautiful June morning is heavenly.

I prefer not to tally my score at the end of a round. Instead, I reflect on each hole individually, considering where I succeeded and where I can improve. Perhaps this goes against the purpose of golf, but I’ve always preferred to study the pieces that make up the whole.

A bogey on hole two. A par on nine. A triple bogey on fifteen, that damnable riverbed. Maybe even a birdie thrown in to keep hope alive.

I have used this mindset in my own life. Maybe I didn’t do as well as I’d hoped on a home project. Maybe I regret how I spoke to a loved one. Maybe I’m proud that I improved my diet and exercised more. They are all individual moments that, together, create a whole life.

That is the appeal of golf for me: the beauty of progress and unpredictability. One minute, you are mucking through a swamp, contorting your body and ruining your shoes to save a stroke. The next, you are summoning the higher angels with a magnificent bunker shot as the grass-stained sphere tumbles effortlessly onto the green and liltingly drops into the bottom of the cup.

Practical Takeaways - What I Have Learned From Golf

• Don't aim for the hole. Aim for the four-foot circle around it. Precision is lovely, but consistently putting yourself in a good position for the next shot is far more attainable.

• Play bogey golf. Progress beats perfection.

• Hit the shot that's in front of you, not the one you wish you had.

• Don't let one bad hole ruin the round.

• Slow swings usually beat hard swings.

• Keep the ball in play. Avoid unnecessary risks.

• Learn when to lay up and when to go for the green.

• Respect the traditions, but play your own game.

• Stop comparing your scorecard to everyone else's.

• Some days, par is impossible. Show up anyway.

• Celebrate the birdies. Learn from the double bogeys.

• The next shot is always more important than the last one.

• A bad lie doesn't excuse a bad attitude.

• Walk the course. Enjoy the scenery. The score isn't the whole point.

• The best rounds are usually shared with good people.