About 6 months ago I was playing a terrible round of golf at Desert Mountain in Scottsdale, Arizona. A few compounded errors led to 3 double-bogeys on the front 9, and I had just pulled my 4th drive of the day into the desert. My blood was boiling, I felt stuck & I couldn’t ‘think’.
All of this culminated with the rumblings of a temper tantrum when a buddy of mine came to the rescue. As I lifted the club above my head with every intention of slamming it into the ground or my golf bag, he grabbed the club out of my hand, drove our cart away from me and smiled, uttering the phrase “walk it off”.
What my playing partner could see, which I could not, was a vicious mental cycle which needed to be broken.
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.