golf stories
5 Weeks on the South American Tour
I was sure that my roommate had been kidnapped. We said to each other, “Ok, see you in the hotel later tonight!” in the airport in Panama City, as we were getting on different planes, both on our way to Peru. I didn’t see him for 2 ½ days….
I started my 2005 season on the Challenge Tour by playing in the winter events which were shared with the Tour de Las Americas. Over five weeks I travelled from Panama, to Peru, Costa Rica, Panama again, and finished in Guatemala, learning so much about life. Whenever I’m having a particularly bad day on the golf course, I only have to think back on those experiences, and laugh at myself.
Lima is the craziest place on the earth (I only say this because I have not yet been to India). Every morning, we woke up in our five-star hotel/casino, towering over the Central Station and the “Palace of Injustice”, as the taxi driver called it. We then got on a bus and stormed out into rush hour traffic, trying to negotiate the 5 kilometers to the golf course, which took us an hour. If it were safe to walk, we would have been faster walking. But rather, we all had to get on this big white ramming-machine (bus) and witness the nightmare of driving through downtown Lima every morning. There are no lanes, no rules, no mercy. Only the strong arrive somewhere, and instead of using turn signals, people use their horn. For as much as I could write about it, it is impossible to imagine without having seen it.
At 7 am, when we were leaving the hotel to get on the bus, I thought I would find my roommate in the lobby’s casino. But he was not there. Many players were getting lost at the card tables. You could see them there all night, and some in the morning. Some looked like professionals; cool, confident. But most were just victims. In fact, there was a casino in almost every hotel we stayed in throughout Latin America. The tour might as well have been called the “Casino Tour de las Americas”.
When we finally arrived at the course, still trembling from the horror of having 342 near-accidents, hundreds of caddies were waiting for us. I don’t know how the caddie-master picked which player for which caddie, but there was a system. He had some ingenious way of assessing a player’s talent, without looking at the size of his golf bag (which can be misleading), and setting him up with the correspondingly skilled caddie. We kept the same caddie for the whole week, and it was through these incredible characters that I really got a feeling for life in Latin America.
Luxurious hotels were the only ones safe for us, with machine-gun armed guards at the door. Where is my roommate? His flight may have been cancelled, but now he’s more than a day late…. I called him. No answer. No one has seen him.
In Costa Rica I had breakfast every day with my caddie at 7am. For him it was more like lunch, because he was obligated by the club to arrive at 6am, and in order to do that, he had to take two busses, each one over an hour’s ride. So every morning, in order to come caddie, he had to wake up at 3am! Then work all day in the sun and wind, arrive home late in the evening, and all for about 25$. Every day he was doing the same, tournament or no tournament, if he didn’t arrive at 6am, he didn’t get a bag to carry. No food on his family’s table. Literally.
This young guy, one of 5 brothers, was so nice and hardworking for me, and as emotionally involved in my round as I was, if not more. On the 8th hole of the second day, a par three, while we were struggling to make the cut, he suggested that I take one club more than I thought, as it seemed the green played a bit uphill. I hit the club he gave me over the green and out of bounds, and I thought my poor caddie was going to kill himself right then and there. He was so upset about what he said to me, that he couldn’t look me in the eyes or speak for the next 4 holes, except, “I’m so sorry, please forgive me…” which he repeated about 10 times.
Back in Panama, the next tournament was sponsored by a guy who owned a few strip clubs in the City. Thanks to him, all the hostesses of the tournament were prostitutes! So we had a lovely week with prostitutes at breakfast, prostitutes at lunch. On the course, they were giving away drinks between holes, and you could smell their perfume 200 meters away. I have to admit; at times it was hard to concentrate.
Plus my roommate was still missing. After hearing a story from a local club member about being kidnapped as a boy…. I figured there was no other explanation. He was now 2 days late, so I started to consider who I should tell.
My caddie in Panama was so kind to explain to me why I eat so much. I took out of my bag a granola bar, of the type you can only find in America, and offered him some. He politely said he wasn’t hungry, which I found strange, seeing that I was starving already after 5 holes, and it was him carrying my bag. So I ate the whole thing, greedily, and with pleasure. A few holes later, I got out another one, and offered him some again. He smiled and refused, so I ate it all, and commented to him, how much I love them, and how I’d like to eat 5 in a row.
“Wow, you must have a lot of worms in your stomach!” was his reply.
In Guatemala, the course we played was in the countryside so our daily bus ride from the capital was over an hour, but with no traffic. Instead we drove by village after village of tin shacks, dirt floors and terrible poverty. My caddie told me that few days ago, nearby, a mudslide from the heavy rains drowned an entire town. 500 people dead, and this was news that wouldn’t even make it to North America. I had a hard time getting upset at bogeys that week.
2 ½ days after I left him, I found my roommate. He maxed out his credit card’s daily limit by paying for the hotel at checkout, so he couldn’t pay for his flight in the evening, when I left. He spent that night sleeping in the Panama airport on top of his golf bag, for fear of it being stolen. The next day, his flight out was delayed, and he missed his connection in Medellin, where he also had to spend the night, sleeping on his golf bag. About 60 hours later he arrived, and went straight to the casino. Polish Open 2008 I don’t believe in miracles, I depend on them. The final round of this year’s Polish Open started with my 5 stroke lead. I had played very solidly the first two days, shooting a 68 and 67, 9 under par total, with no drama. The third round was not so smooth, as I was paired with my main rival, the very good English golfer, Grant Jackson. He had cut my lead down to one shot, until slipping on the last two holes. I responded by birdying the last two to finish with a 70 and move to -11, five shots clear of Grant. I was not sleeping so easily this last night before the final round. I was not worried, as would be typical, about winning or losing. I was not especially nervous, because deep down I know that “what will be, will be” and there is not much we can do about it. We can only prepare ourselves; be ready and optimistic, while understanding that the results are out of our hands. Nonetheless, being in the lead since the first day, with a very talented opponent at your heels is not a relaxing feeling. So there I stood, on the first tee of the last day, with my 5 stroke lead and only 18 holes separating me from victory. My drive on the first hole was weak. I was not committed or aggressive, and the ball drifted into the right rough. My ball was laying 175 meters from the flag in a lie that I could instantly identify as a “flyer”. This is when the ball is sitting up enough in the rough to come out hot, fast, and with no spin, causing it to fly 10 to 20 meters further than it normally would from the fairway. Still, the pin was at the back of the green, and there was a bunker guarding the front, and I could not convince myself to choose a shorter club, so I hit a four iron, which is the club I would normally take from that distance. Sure enough, I watched coldly, as my ball sailed over the green and disappeared in the trees. Bogey. The round continued in that fashion. Bad decisions, bad swings, bad luck. Bogey, bogey, bogey. I watched my lead disappear hole by hole. The day was turning into some kind of a bad dream, where I had the constant feeling that “this can’t be happening….” I stabilized with an eagle on the 6th, and started to make pars, but Grant was encouraged by my weakness. He birdied the 10th, 11th, and 12th to finally tie with me. I had not given up, of course, but I did have the strange feeling of watching everything happen, as if I were not entirely present. Finally, I bogeyed the 14th to give Grant a one shot lead, and that was enough. It was like when a bad dream turns into a nightmare and you suddenly decide to wake up. I suddenly got the feeling again that I am going to win this tournament. Somehow, I will win. Grant surprisingly 3-putted the 16th to tie our score once again. And then even more surprisingly, he hit his ball in the water over the 17th green. With only two holes to play now, my position was looking VERY good. He dropped his ball from the water into a terrible lie, and then hacked it out onto the far side of the green, some 20 meters from the hole. This is when the miracles started. I was busy counting my shots, and his shots, and smiling inwardly about the two shot lead that I was sure to have on the last hole, when… he putted that ball, up, over, down, around and across the green and straight into the hole. No way! I couldn’t believe he just made that putt from all the way across the green. No one could believe he just made that putt from all the way across the green, turning a sure double-bogey into only a bogey. Now my lead was only one shot, but that was enough for me. I love that 18th hole. I always birdie that 18th hole, and I can’t remember ever not birdying it, although I am sure that has also happened. “Birdie must be enough to win, and I will make birdie here.” But life is stranger than fiction, and while Grant was studying his 15 meter putt for eagle, I started to have that premonition again that something crazy is going on today. The crowd of spectators went crazy when he rolled his ball, AGAIN, perfectly across 15 meters of uneven grass, spike-marks, and footprints directly into the bottom of the hole. I birdied, like I knew I would, but it only got me into a playoff. This story is really about this: how we MAKE things happen. How, what we think, BECOMES reality. Have you ever had the strong feeling that you were going to make a putt, and then you do? Have you ever had the strong fear that you are going to miss a putt, and then you do? Whether you think you can do something, or you think you cannot, you are usually right. No one watching could believe that Grant Jackson just made those two MONSTER putts on the last two holes to tie me. But for sure he believed it. And so we went into the sudden-death playoff. We both birdied the first hole, so we moved on to the second, which was going to be hole #1 of the normal course, where I had started the day with my first bogey. This time I killed my drive, 40 meters farther than I had hit it in the morning, and 30 meters passed Grant. But I was still in the right rough, and still managed to get the same type of “flyer” lie that I had 5 hours ago. Over the green is dead-land, I know that, but this time I only have to hit an 8 iron. Surely I won’t fly over the green twice! I just wanted to swing easy, smooth, and I did! But the ball jumped out of the grass like a rocket. My heart stopped as I watched my ball flying, flying, flying. It was heading right for the pin, that is true, but it was going much too far. I whispered, “get down, please!” The direction was so good, “please come down!” The ball hit the flagstick so squarely, so solidly, that it rebounded back 15 meters, almost off the green again. The 2 cm wide flagstick stopped my ball from going over the green, from 142 meters away. One cm left or right would have meant an assured bogey and losing the Polish Open. And now I had this 15 meter putt, which seemed to be another small miracle. With all the crazy things that had happened in the last hour, Grant holing those two long putts, and now my hitting the flagstick to save me in this playoff, I thought, I am going to hole this putt now too. Why not? Since this is the hour of the mini-miracles, why not another one. So again, from across the green, my ball rolled right into the middle of the cup. It was one of the few times that I knew, I really knew, that the ball was going in the hole as soon as I hit it. Another small miracle. Why not? All I had to do was ask, and believe. That is how I won the Polish Open 2008.
Preconditions and Learning Styles:
Student: I want to learn archery. How long will it take?
Master: 5 years.
Student: Oh, that’s too long! How long will it take if I try really hard, and go as quickly as possible?
Master: 20 years.
-ancient Japanese wisdom
Whether learning golf, business, or whatever; all good learners share certain qualities. It’s been a fascinating part of my teaching career, meeting so many different people, and finding a ways to help them. While working for years at the tourist destination Novo Sancti Petri in Spain, I saw droves of new golfers come through the door every week. Germans in the winter, Spanish in the summer came and went, leaving little behind but money and a few divots. Though it was impossible to form long term relationships with the students, the huge turnover gave me the advantage of working with hundreds of beginners every month.
At the club’s reception, every Saturday morning, I’d meet my group of beginners for the week. I used to play a game, betting with myself which strangers, judging by their body-shape, eye contact, and handshake, were going to learn faster than the others. After about 5 years of watching closely, I got quite good at judging someone’s golfing potential within 30 seconds of meeting them. What I found is that although people have different styles of learning, there are a few qualities which separate those who learn quickly, from those that struggle:
1) Curiosity: This is most basic requisite of all learning; the motivation for making an effort. This wonderful trait is written all over someone’s face as they look around them, shake hands with their fellow students, or if they are the shy type, smile and nod to each other. In a group, curious students typically stand closer to me, so they can ask more questions. Motivation is by far the most important factor, eclipsing natural talent. “Where there’s a will, there is a way”. Find enough desire and you will eventually reach your goal. I’ve seen 100 times, less coordinated players, with determination and hard work, becoming much better players than their more gifted peers. A love of the game, and a healthy mindset is how I would define “talent”. Conversely without interest, there is no absorption. I often met women and children who played because their husband or parents forced them; they hardly learned anything. Such a waste of time.
2) Sensitivity: The ability to watch and listen; sounds quite easy, but it is not. Students watch my swing as I demonstrate, but how many of them REALLY see it entirely? Are they checking for some technical action, or are they letting the whole picture soak in? A good indication of sensitivity is how well the student can imitate. Children are perfect at this. There’s no doubt that children learn golf easier than adults, and this is exactly because they are more sensitive and open. In order to truly observe, you have to quiet your own thoughts, opinions, and judgments. For some poor students this seems impossible. They are constantly talking to themselves, whether just hitting range balls, or especially on the course under pressure. People who are terribly nervous or angry are good examples of too much thinking and judging. Instinct is a much better guide in sports than intellect.
3) Humility: It’s an old refrain: “To play great golf you either have to be extremely intelligent, or extremely stupid”. In other words, figuring golf out is virtually impossible, so best keep things simple. Humility is the ability to accept that we’re not perfect, we make mistakes, and that maybe (just maybe) we don’t always know the best way of doing something. Students who “think they know better” are the ones who progress most slowly. They are resistant to change, and tend to repeat the same mistakes over, and over, and over. Modesty and open-mindedness go hand in hand with flexibility; mental and physical. Over-ambitiousness, after some years, leads to muscle tension that shows plainly in the neck and face. Pupils with thick necks, or veins sticking out of the forehead generally have a swing that is short, quick, and results in long term injury, or chronic tendonitis. I’ve had these students argue with me, and disregard my advice with the repeated phrase “Yes… but….”.
So these personality traits enable quick and easy learning, with some help of course, and that is where my role as “the Master” comes in. On top of these traits is each individual’s particular LEARNING STYLE:
a) Visual: Some students learn best by seeing the swing, and having a mental picture of it. They benefit from mirrors, demonstrations, and videos. At the golf club reception, these tend to be the people who look me straight in the eyes, are constantly looking around, or out the window. Children often fall into this category.
b) Audio: Other students’ dominant style is listening and understanding. They need the concepts, verbal commands and cues. These people work well with explanations, and ideas. These usually are the very social people, asking me lots of questions, and talking my ears off.
c) Kinesthetic: While others focus on feeling the swing. They’re keenly aware of their bodies, and how the different movements and positions feel. They are the quiet types, often looking down, or playing with something in their hands. Fat people and smokers tend to be in this group. I don’t know why.
My job as a teacher is to identify how each student learns best, and then work with them in ways that they can relate to. With visual learners, I demonstrate more; show them what proper impact, divots, and ball flights look like. With Audio dominant students, I explain more. Talk about “Swing Theory”, and draw their attention to the sweet sound of ball contact. And for those interested in “feeling”, I put them, hands-on, into the right positions (with men I have to push, pull and force them, while with women students, a slight touch is usually enough).
Of course, almost everyone has a mixture of these learning styles, so it isn’t as black and white as I’m describing it. But certainly if you have the preconditions, and you train according to your learning style, it’s a match made for success.
“Do you see what I mean?”
“Do you hear what I’m saying?”
“Or do you feel me?”
