Golf can be hugely rewarding. It can be life-affirming, therapeutic and cathartic. It’s physically and socially stimulating. It’s fresh air and beautiful surroundings. It can be thrilling and inspiring and it’s good for your mental health. But, boy, can it be irritating.
It’s one of the most challenging sports you can play and, as such, it can be massively frustrating. The smallest errors can lead to monumental disasters. An innocuous head movement or grip adjustment can be round ending.
For me, golf is so compelling because a state of on-course serenity is achievable, but rage is always lurking and must be supressed. It’s a great spiritual test.
And it’s not just the technical difficulty of the game that can trigger feelings of anger. Golf involves other people, all of whom are dealing with their own inner demons relating to the game. The challenge they pose and the anger they can potentially elicit in you must also be overcome.
To play well at golf, you must keep a lid on your fury. It’s crucial to stay calm, but it’s easier said than done when so many things could tip you over the edge.
Everyone is different when it comes to what pushes their buttons in golf and not all will agree with my list here. Hey, I won’t get angry about that… What’s the point. It’s only a list. It’s no big deal. You think what you want… Deep breaths, deep breaths…
Right, now I’ve calmed down slightly, here are my most rage-inducing things in golf, counting down from five to one.
5 – A putt left on the lip
(Image credit: Getty Images)
Let’s start with a basic rage-inducer. The putt that heads for the centre of the cup, looks for all the world like it’s going to drop but then, inexplicably, comes to an abrupt halt right on the very edge of the hole.
It was tracking. It was a dead cert. It was a shot back on the field. It was joy unbounded. And then it wasn’t. It was almost like it hit some sort of force field, a buffer, a glue-trap.
You go from stirrings of elation to chasms of despair in the space of half a second. Your hopes dance on the crest of a wave only to be dashed on the rocks. Then, when the surf subsides, dragging your disappointment back out to sea, all that’s left is rage.
Why did this happen? Why is it always me? Why have the golfing…
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