Opinion & Analysis
A round to remember? An old man’s story

By D.C. Fasciglione
GolfWRX Staff Writer
The old man had been thinking about his luck that day. Rather, he had been thinking about his lack there of.
He was already 4-over and the first nine had yet to be played. The new fangled golf shoes with the so-called high tech soles were burning a hole in his Achilles heel. His daughter wasn’t talking to him on account of the fact he had spent her mom’s birthday money on these damnable shoes and a box of Top-Flite Gamers. And to top things off he got stuck with this guy.
He figured that despite the fact he had to get up twice a night to go pee, he couldn’t find his glasses half the time and he had to sit down to carefully don his socks in the morning, at least he could still count. He also figured his playing partner could, too. Or maybe not. By his recollection good ‘ol Ray should be 6 over.
Ray was a regular at the course. He had played with him once or twice before, but as he was partnered with two others he hadn’t given much thought to the man’s game, let alone his scoring of it. Ray was one of those fellows who thought he might be able to play the Champion’s Tour, with just a bit more practice and some luck. The old man had entertained that thought as well, in between his well-trodden hallway excursions to the head each night he sometimes caught himself drifting into dreamland.
Shiny green fairways and sugar sand bunkers. Tall oaks casting light and shadows in the lush, dewy rough. And there he would find himself, middle of the fairway, 200 yards from the pin, 7- iron in hand…
“Wait a minute. 7-iron my backside.”
New fangled hybrid in his hand.
He imagined, he dreamed, of a supple swing, a towering 200-yard strike to the heart of the green. The tree branch had somehow reached him in the subtle breeze. In his dream he could see the ball, as clear as day, within the leather.
“That’s about right,” he smiled. Damnable tree branch was starting to annoy him. He distractedly fended it off with his free hand, and strode proudly down the fairway, chest out, reaching for his hat. He could just make out the on-course reporters jostling for position to get his interview.
“Honey?”
“What’s that? No, no. I’m taken. My, that’s a nice tan, ahem, ‘hem.?”
“Honey, you’re snoring.”?The old man stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, the shadowy green remnants of his dream scattering into the four corners of his darkened room. The back of his wife’s hand was tapping upon his forehead.
Oh well. Can’t hit that confounded hybrid worth a lick, anyway. The very thought of ever making it to the Tour brought a chuckle to him. As he got up to relieve himself he thought it over.
“Let’s see; Perry, Boom Boom, Calc, Lehman, Haas. The list goes on. Before long we’ll see Vijay, Love…” Back to reality.
Reality that day had the old man sputtering between tee box to green, huffing and puffing up the sharp incline of the third fairway of his favorite public track. By the time he had reached the postage stamp of a green at the top of that incline his patience had just about given out, just like his legs.
“Ray, you aren’t 2-over; you’re 6-over, the old man wheezed. And there’s no way in Sam Hill you’re ever going to make it to the Champion’s Tour so quit plumb bobbing and take your third putt.”
He figured it was a good time to have a seat at the next tee and find the moleskin at the bottom of his golf bag. He was irritable. There were few things these days that didn’t irritate him, but cheating took the cake. Ray would just have to deal with it.
“Who does he think he’s kidding? Me? I just don’t get it,” he thought as he heard Ray’s feet shuffle up the crushed stone cart path.
“Made that putt,” Ray mouthed, almost as if to himself. “Ouch. That looks like it hurts,” looking down at the old man’s sockless foot.
“You should see the other one,” he replied. The old man’s feet appeared older than even he. Their weathered, calloused pads had traversed decades of fairways, rough, and cart paths. As a younger man his pocket couldn’t afford riding in a golf cart. As an older man his heart couldn’t afford it and his pride wouldn’t allow it. He would continue to walk.
Ray fished in his own golf bag a moment and took out a small package containing some adhesive shoe padding. He was wearing an untucked red shirt and white sneaker-like golf shoes. His curly, silver hair was thinning. He needed a shave, his whiskers gray over an olive complexion.
“Here ya go. Give these a try.”
The old man took the pads, managed a “Thanks” under his breath, and worked them into the counter of the offending shoe. Surprisingly, they seemed to help. Maybe Ray wasn’t so bad after all, he thought.
By the twelfth hole things were looking up for the old man. He had managed to birdie the 10th, which was a surprise given the fact that at the turn he had downed a hot dog with the consistency of a bicycle seat. He was still belching as his ball found the bottom of the cup.
“Pardon, Ray.” Belch. “That would be a three, by the way.” Belch. “I believe I have the honors.” Belch.
Ray chuckled. “I had 3, too!”
The old man’s smile turned to frown. He was just about to say, “Yeah, three putts,” when the thought occurred to him that maybe something wasn’t quite right. It didn’t make sense. In fact, as he thought back over the last several holes the old man recalled more than one occurrence in which Ray had seemed confused. Between the sixth green and the seventh tee box, Ray had seemed unsure as to which direction he was to walk. A couple holes back the old man became impatient when Ray had apparently become confused with his scorecard. He recalled Ray’s furrowed brow, the tip of his tongue showing, and the short golf pencil poised above the tiny boxes.
“Trying to shave strokes,” the old man had thought. But now he wasn’t so sure anymore. Finally, there was no way anyone would believe he had scored a three on that last hole.
The old man felt a sudden chill.
As the day progressed the early autumn air cooled and the shadows grew longer and darker. The leaves had already begun to fall, and the old man thought about how easy it was to lose one’s ball this time of year, even in the middle of the fairway. Before long it would be cold and he would feel his age in each and every swing.
“Is it getting chilly out here, Ray, or is it just me?” the old man asked of his playing partner. Ray smiled as he pushed his tee into the turf.
“You can’t be a fair weather golfer,” he replied. The old man nodded. Ray was right, of course. You take the good with the bad and move on. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he figured maybe Ray hadn’t been cheating. Maybe he was confused. The old man decided he would keep an eye out.
By the eighteenth tee it was clear to him that Ray had a problem with his memory. The old man had seen it before: confusion with simple tasks, such as when Ray had struggled to get his Titleist out of the ball washer; difficulty in remembering new names, Ray must have asked him his name at least five times that day; a sudden lost sensation, as when Ray was confused on the cart path between holes.
Dementia. Maybe Alzheimer’s, the old man thought. If so, this was early onset. Ray was maybe late fifties.
After the final approach and putts had been made the old man extended his hand to Ray.
“Clubhouse for a cold beer?”?”That sounds great,” he replied. Upon reaching the 1960s era facade of the clubhouse the old man and Ray brushed their shoes free from the course’s turf. They entered through the diner side and walked down a short hall to the bar.
“Hey guys.” The greeting came in stereo from the assistant pro and a woman with dark green eyes and hair dyed a shade too dark for her age. She smiled, held out her hand to the old man and said, “Hi. I’m Sarah, Ray’s wife.”
The assistant pro filled in the details after Ray and Sarah had left. Ray was stage four Alzheimer’s, early onset as the old man had guessed. A couple of the starters knew, as did the pros, and had discussed with Sarah and Ray safety concerns and possible accommodations. It was unclear how the disease would progress; each person reacts differently. Ray would continue to golf and dream about making it to the Champion’s tour, of course.
The old man thought he might, too.
Click here for more discussion in the “General Golf Talk” forum.
The following links are to the National Institute on Aging- Alzheimer’s, the Alzheimer’s Association, and the Alzheimer’s Foundation.
http://www.nia.nih.gov/alzheimers
http://www.alz.org/ http://www.alzfdn.org
Opinion & Analysis
The 2 primary challenges golf equipment companies face

As the editor-in-chief of this website and an observer of the GolfWRX forums and other online golf equipment discourse for over a decade, I’m pretty well attuned to the grunts and grumbles of a significant portion of the golf equipment purchasing spectrum. And before you accuse me of lording above all in some digital ivory tower, I’d like to offer that I worked at golf courses (public and private) for years prior to picking up my pen, so I’m well-versed in the non-degenerate golf equipment consumers out there. I touched (green)grass (retail)!
Complaints about the ills of and related to the OEMs usually follow some version of: Product cycles are too short for real innovation, tour equipment isn’t the same as retail (which is largely not true, by the way), too much is invested in marketing and not enough in R&D, top staffer X hasn’t even put the new driver in play, so it’s obviously not superior to the previous generation, prices are too high, and on and on.
Without digging into the merits of any of these claims, which I believe are mostly red herrings, I’d like to bring into view of our rangefinder what I believe to be the two primary difficulties golf equipment companies face.
One: As Terry Koehler, back when he was the CEO of Ben Hogan, told me at the time of the Ft Worth irons launch, if you can’t regularly hit the golf ball in a coin-sized area in the middle of the face, there’s not a ton that iron technology can do for you. Now, this is less true now with respect to irons than when he said it, and is less and less true by degrees as the clubs get larger (utilities, fairways, hybrids, drivers), but there remains a great deal of golf equipment truth in that statement. Think about it — which is to say, in TL;DR fashion, get lessons from a qualified instructor who will teach you about the fundamentals of repeatable impact and how the golf swing works, not just offer band-aid fixes. If you can’t repeatably deliver the golf club to the golf ball in something resembling the manner it was designed for, how can you expect to be getting the most out of the club — put another way, the maximum value from your investment?
Similarly, game improvement equipment can only improve your game if you game it. In other words, get fit for the clubs you ought to be playing rather than filling the bag with the ones you wish you could hit or used to be able to hit. Of course, don’t do this if you don’t care about performance and just want to hit a forged blade while playing off an 18 handicap. That’s absolutely fine. There were plenty of members in clubs back in the day playing Hogan Apex or Mizuno MP-32 irons who had no business doing so from a ballstriking standpoint, but they enjoyed their look, feel, and complementary qualities to their Gatsby hats and cashmere sweaters. Do what brings you a measure of joy in this maddening game.
Now, the second issue. This is not a plea for non-conforming equipment; rather, it is a statement of fact. USGA/R&A limits on every facet of golf equipment are detrimental to golf equipment manufacturers. Sure, you know this, but do you think about it as it applies to almost every element of equipment? A 500cc driver would be inherently more forgiving than a 460cc, as one with a COR measurement in excess of 0.83. 50-inch shafts. Box grooves. And on and on.
Would fewer regulations be objectively bad for the game? Would this erode its soul? Fortunately, that’s beside the point of this exercise, which is merely to point out the facts. The fact, in this case, is that equipment restrictions and regulations are the slaughterbench of an abundance of innovation in the golf equipment space. Is this for the best? Well, now I’ve asked the question twice and might as well give a partial response, I guess my answer to that would be, “It depends on what type of golf you’re playing and who you’re playing it with.”
For my part, I don’t mind embarrassing myself with vintage blades and persimmons chasing after the quasi-spiritual elevation of a well-struck shot, but that’s just me. Plenty of folks don’t give a damn if their grooves are conforming. Plenty of folks think the folks in Liberty Corner ought to add a prison to the museum for such offences. And those are just a few of the considerations for the amateur game — which doesn’t get inside the gallery ropes of the pro game…
Different strokes in the game of golf, in my humble opinion.
Anyway, I believe equipment company engineers are genuinely trying to build better equipment year over year. The marketing departments are trying to find ways to make this equipment appeal to the broadest segment of the golf market possible. All of this against (1) the backdrop of — at least for now — firm product cycles. And golfers who, with their ~15 average handicap (men), for the most part, are not striping the golf ball like Tiger in his prime and seem to have less and less time year over year to practice and improve. (2) Regulations that massively restrict what they’re able to do…
That’s the landscape as I see it and the real headwinds for golf equipment companies. No doubt, there’s more I haven’t considered, but I think the previous is a better — and better faith — point of departure when formulating any serious commentary on the golf equipment world than some of the more cynical and conspiratorial takes I hear.
Agree? Disagree? Think I’m worthy of an Adam Hadwin-esque security guard tackle? Let me know in the comments.
@golfoncbs The infamous Adam Hadwin tackle ? #golf #fyp #canada #pgatour #adamhadwin ? Ghibli-style nostalgic waltz – MaSssuguMusic
Podcasts
Fore Love of Golf: Introducing a new club concept

Episode #16 brings us Cliff McKinney. Cliff is the founder of Old Charlie Golf Club, a new club, and concept, to be built in the Florida panhandle. The model is quite interesting and aims to make great, private golf more affordable. We hope you enjoy the show!
Opinion & Analysis
On Scottie Scheffler wondering ‘What’s the point of winning?’

Last week, I came across a reel from BBC Sport on Instagram featuring Scottie Scheffler speaking to the media ahead of The Open at Royal Portrush. In it, he shared that he often wonders what the point is of wanting to win tournaments so badly — especially when he knows, deep down, that it doesn’t lead to a truly fulfilling life.
View this post on Instagram
“Is it great to be able to win tournaments and to accomplish the things I have in the game of golf? Yeah, it brings tears to my eyes just to think about it because I’ve literally worked my entire life to be good at this sport,” Scheffler said. “To have that kind of sense of accomplishment, I think, is a pretty cool feeling. To get to live out your dreams is very special, but at the end of the day, I’m not out here to inspire the next generation of golfers. I’m not out here to inspire someone to be the best player in the world, because what’s the point?”
Ironically — or perhaps perfectly — he went on to win the claret jug.
That question — what’s the point of winning? — cuts straight to the heart of the human journey.
As someone who’s spent over two decades in the trenches of professional golf, and in deep study of the mental, emotional, and spiritual dimensions of the game, I see Scottie’s inner conflict as a sign of soul evolution in motion.
I came to golf late. I wasn’t a junior standout or college All-American. At 27, I left a steady corporate job to see if I could be on the PGA Tour starting as a 14-handicap, average-length hitter. Over the years, my journey has been defined less by trophies and more by the relentless effort to navigate the deeply inequitable and gated system of professional golf — an effort that ultimately turned inward and helped me evolve as both a golfer and a person.
One perspective that helped me make sense of this inner dissonance around competition and our culture’s tendency to overvalue winning is the idea of soul evolution.
The University of Virginia’s Division of Perceptual Studies has done extensive research on reincarnation, and Netflix’s Surviving Death (Episode 6) explores the topic, too. Whether you take it literally or metaphorically, the idea that we’re on a long arc of growth — from beginner to sage elder — offers a profound perspective.
If you accept the premise literally, then terms like “young soul” and “old soul” start to hold meaning. However, even if we set the word “soul” aside, it’s easy to see that different levels of life experience produce different worldviews.
Newer souls — or people in earlier stages of their development — may be curious and kind but still lack discernment or depth. There is a naivety, and they don’t yet question as deeply, tending to see things in black and white, partly because certainty feels safer than confronting the unknown.
As we gain more experience, we begin to experiment. We test limits. We chase extreme external goals — sometimes at the expense of health, relationships, or inner peace — still operating from hunger, ambition, and the fragility of the ego.
It’s a necessary stage, but often a turbulent and unfulfilling one.
David Duval fell off the map after reaching World No. 1. Bubba Watson had his own “Is this it?” moment with his caddie, Ted Scott, after winning the Masters.
In Aaron Rodgers: Enigma, reflecting on his 2011 Super Bowl win, Rodgers said:
“Now I’ve accomplished the only thing that I really, really wanted to do in my life. Now what? I was like, ‘Did I aim at the wrong thing? Did I spend too much time thinking about stuff that ultimately doesn’t give you true happiness?’”
Jim Carrey once said, “I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it’s not the answer.”
Eventually, though, something shifts.
We begin to see in shades of gray. Winning, dominating, accumulating—these pursuits lose their shine. The rewards feel more fleeting. Living in a constant state of fight-or-flight makes us feel alive, yes, but not happy and joyful.
Compassion begins to replace ambition. Love, presence, and gratitude become more fulfilling than status, profits, or trophies. We crave balance over burnout. Collaboration over competition. Meaning over metrics.
Interestingly, if we zoom out, we can apply this same model to nations and cultures. Countries, like people, have a collective “soul stage” made up of the individuals within them.
Take the United States, for example. I’d place it as a mid-level soul: highly competitive and deeply driven, but still learning emotional maturity. Still uncomfortable with nuance. Still believing that more is always better. Despite its global wins, the U.S. currently ranks just 23rd in happiness (as of 2025). You might liken it to a gifted teenager—bold, eager, and ambitious, but angsty and still figuring out how to live well and in balance. As much as a parent wants to protect their child, sometimes the child has to make their own mistakes to truly grow.
So when Scottie Scheffler wonders what the point of winning is, I don’t see someone losing strength.
I see someone evolving.
He’s beginning to look beyond the leaderboard. Beyond metrics of success that carry a lower vibration. And yet, in a poetic twist, Scheffler did go on to win The Open. But that only reinforces the point: even at the pinnacle, the question remains. And if more of us in the golf and sports world — and in U.S. culture at large — started asking similar questions, we might discover that the more meaningful trophy isn’t about accumulating or beating others at all costs.
It’s about awakening and evolving to something more than winning could ever promise.