I was telling a buddy at lunch today how my life basically centers around hitting a little white ball as far and straight as possible. No joke. Rather sad, actually, what my life has turned into--an obsession with hitting a little white ball. Almost every waking minute I'm not working I'm probably thinking about what's wrong with my golf game--my grip, alignment, balance, posture, tempo, how they all suck.
Worse than golf consuming all my thoughts is its affect on my mood. If I'm hitting it well I'm happy, social, cheerful. Walk around with a little extra bounce in my step. But if I'm playing poorly then I literally get depress, annoyed, withdrawn--you name it. This can't be good. A psychologist would probably diagnose me with some sort of disorder.
Why, why this obsession/addiction? I can understand drug addiction or sex addiction--those things make you feel really good. But hitting a little white ball doesn't make me high or give me an orgasm. I have a few theories:
- I'm a bit of a perfectionist. I want to hit the ball perfectly, but golf is not a game of perfection. Until I can accept that golf is not a game of perfection every bad shot, every bad round will just eat at me.
- I pride myself on being a quick learner, but I'm not progressing quick enough. I'm too impatient.
- I like to be in control, but no one can truly be in control of their swing/game. Even Tiger Woods has said there's only two golfers who have ever "owned their swing", Moe Norman and Ben Hogan.
It's just all very frustrating. I hate it. Perfection. Progress. Control. Can't have any of it. Imagine how much less frustrated and healthy I'd be, how much more money and spare time I'd have, if only I had bought a bicycle instead. I'd be cruising around the beach, enjoying the nice Spring weather. My chicken legs would be huge and muscular. Instead I'm going insane thinking about how to hit a little white ball. Damn you defunct Copeland's Sport for not having a better selection of bicycles. Damn you.
