A lift ticket does not come with a timer. Hikers win every time they get back to the car. But golf loves numbers. Only bowlers keep score more consistently, although for them, overhead computers don’t really give them much choice. But unless you keep score with the same absolute rigor required when millions of dollars or Masters invitations are on the line, why do it for yourself? Of course, whether you run away from mulligans or put two feet in for a triple says a lot about your character, but for many golfers, the score is an approximation, an item on a tax return. You could present a reasonable defense in the unlikely event of an audit.
“Stroke play is a nonsense game; I don’t see why anyone would do it if they don’t have to,” says Geoff Ogilvy, who was least disappointed by the format at the 2006 US Open at Winged Foot. It is understandable that even a successful professional can develop this attitude. Having your self-worth defined daily by two numbers is hard on the soul. And to think that most of us do it without any prospect of remuneration.
“You’re spending your hard-earned money doing something that you’ll hopefully enjoy, and yet so many people come off the course unhappy,” says Martin Hall, professor and Golf Channel host. “I stopped keeping score years ago. I enjoy the look of a ball going through the sky the way I think it should, the feeling of a burst that I have bitten. I rather enjoy shooting when I hit them than a score at the end.
Well, bully Mr. Hall and all the other hippies who claim to live in the present. Some of us can’t leave class without replaying every missed shot in our tortured heads. Enjoy the balloon flight?! Might as well take the frisbee. Be cheaper.
Dr. Gio Valiante, a sports psychologist and professor at Rollins College, says most golfers follow a common motivational arc. As beginners, we fall in love with the game to discover ourselves, to see how good we can become. As our golfing life continues, we turn to the game to impress others, and that’s when our ego becomes knotted. To reward the students of its courses at Rollins, Valiante often organizes golf outings. Even among the best players, he sees a generational change: “These children have inherited significant economic and environmental problems. They have realized the bankruptcy of the accumulation model of life. Generally speaking, they looking to get something out of golf “It’s a little different. A class is a unique place to connect with friends, and they recognize that score has a way of separating people. “
Not keeping score so the losers don’t feel bad? Sorry, we can’t give a ribbon to every participant, but it’s golf. Some of us practice until our fingers bleed because we dream of going lower. Which might be a better reason to ditch the pencil.
“The first thing I teach the guys on tour is to play at a competitive level without counting points,” Valiante says. “Being generally aware of the score is good, but no more.” In 2012, on the eve of a four-tournament streak, Valiante issued a challenge to his client Justin Rose: “I want to see 1,120 great routines. On Thursday or Sunday, no shot is more important than another. ” Valiante estimated an average score of 70 over 16 rounds, which is fairly flawless golf. “We needed raw data to audit his game. I told him to just immerse himself in the process of concentrating the same way on every shot, and we would fine-tune the back end.” Rose didn’t make it. He only had 1,108 great routines. With a cumulative score of 32 under, including a victory, it was one of the best 16-round stretches of his career.
“It’s exhausting to score,” says Matt Thurmond, men’s golf coach at the University of Washington. “You rarely see a guy whose mechanics are better after a tournament. That’s when it’s good to go play and not feel responsible. Stay in that competition mode too long and you’ll be derailed Make no mistake, keeping score determines results: in the weight room, in the classroom, the score is the whole point. But it’s a delicate balance.”
Thurmond has his guys play rounds periodically without counting points. Amateur golfers in America, at least those who want to improve, do not benefit from such laxity. Our disability system is the most unforgiving in the world. In the UK, only ‘medal’ (tournament) rounds count towards handicapping. Continental Europeans calculate handicaps with the Stableford score, where only holes of net bogey or better are scored. While the USGA’s heart is in the right place – “enabling golfers of all levels to compete on a fair basis” – asking amateurs to never leave a hole empty, even if they haven’t played (give (you just do what you need to do most). probably would have) is perhaps a little tyrannical.
“Stableford is a far superior system to Equitable Stroke Control,” says Dean Knuth, the lead developer of the USGA’s Course Rating and Slope Rating systems. For example, a 10 handicap butchering an easy par 3 in San Diego may achieve a quadruple bogey 7, but in Spain it could have resumed after five shots.
Of course, as Randy McPherson, 59, of Milwaukee says, “There’s no law that says you have to keep score to play this game.” He compares golf to his other passion, bowhunting: “The outdoors is an invigorating environment. Focusing on results takes away time. If I had to shoot a deer every trip, I would have stopped a long time ago. McPherson says it took him a full season to train his mind, but now he can play a good round, make tons of pars and feel no compulsion to add them up.
“I don’t play often enough to stress about scoring,” Mark Barker, 34, says of Orlando, a solid ball-striker but steady putter. “I just play for the spiritual experience. You know what that says, ‘There are no pictures on the scorecard’? I wish my scorecard had pictures on it.”
A four-legged one with nothing on it? It looks like a bull without horns. What about golfers who enjoy the thrill of competition? “Then play match play,” Ogilvy said.
“Beating an opponent or getting a good score are only short-term results,” Valiante explains. “How good can I be at this game? That’s a question that will be asked for 20 years.”
