Connect with us

Opinion & Analysis

A golf story: The quickest swing

Published

on

By Jim Schwartz

GolfWRX Contributor

It was close to dark one balmy, late summer evening. Our timing was good as we left the 17th green. My threesome would have enough light to play the last hole without having to guess where our shots were headed. It’s one of the rituals of golf, the march from finished green to the next tee, one that we do easily, routinely, without doubt.

Moments later, we arrived and set our bags down. A figure emerged from the peaceful twilight. He was somewhere around forty years old, of average stature, fit, dressed casually, but not someone who’d stand out in any of those ways in a crowd.

“You mind if I play along this last hole?” he said. “There’s not much light left.” He was calm, purposeful, pleasant in a relaxed way that suggested he didn’t want anything from us other than what he’d said.

We all said yes, of course. That’s one of the nice things about golf. We’re supposed to accommodate each other. Most of us do and usually it ends up being a positive experience in one way or another.

There were no further introductions. We were all singles to begin with. There wasn’t going to be much more time together. And our new partner didn’t seem the type to bother with the unnecessary. Which isn’t to say he was disagreeable in any way. His demeanor was peaceful. He seemed to be enjoying the evening and it was a lovely one to enjoy. The edge was off the heat as darkness began to set in. There’s something about the calm, soothing ambience on a golf course as a hot day comes to a close that makes me feel like there’s nowhere else to be. It’s the beginning of a perfect summer night.

As we hit our drives, he watched with quiet attention, patiently awaiting his turn.

After we finished, he pulled the driver out of his golf bag. It was one of those bags like a quiver of arrows, ultra lightweight and barely big enough to hold the clubs. He walked up to the tee blocks and stuck his tee into the ground with his ball on top of it, another of those routines we do so effortlessly. Immediately, but calmly, he addressed the ball as if there were imprints in the ground for his feet. Then, without so much as a moment’s pause, he began his backswing. The swing was simple and easy, his tempo smooth. The shot was a beauty, right down the middle.

I want to be clear. He didn’t have any drawn out preshot routine. He didn’t appear to have any preshot routine at all. He didn’t rock his feet, wiggle his toes or search for the perfect grip. He didn’t take a deep breath, didn’t waggle, didn’t survey the fairway and his target. If I’d blinked while he was teeing it up, I’d still have seen his drive. But if I’d blinked twice, I might not have.

It was the quickest execution of any shot I’d ever seen. He didn’t rush, though. He was as calm as anyone could be, certainly more relaxed than any of the rest us in our group. There was no excess motion, no wasted time. This was maximum efficiency.

Everyone congratulated him on the shot and he graciously expressed his appreciation in a manner that suggested he’d done this many times before. He dropped the driver back into his quiver and began to walk down the fairway. His journey to the ball, some 265 yards or so away, was as purposeful and peaceful as everything else he’d done. It was as if he were walking down a mountain trail, headed to a nearby steam for a drink of fresh water, one that he wanted, but not so desperately that he was going to miss the splendid scenary around him. It felt good to be there. He was enjoying the experience and he’d get to the next shot when he did. We all enjoyed it, I think, the last trip of the day into a perfect dusk.

We all spread across the fairway. I wanted to say something to him about what I’d just seen. I was lucky to address the ball relaxed and confident that I was going to hit it well, even if I succeeded here and there. Anxiety didn’t seem to be part of this guy’s internal landscape.

His drive went the furthest, so he hit his approach last. Again, he grabbed his club, a mid-iron, walked up to the ball and with the same simplicity and smooth tempo, hit it. This shot played out even faster than his drive since he didn’t have to tee it up.

The ball flew high and landed gently on the middle of the green.

This was a swing with no doubt or fear in it, one probably not too invested in results, which can end up meaning that the intended results are easier to come by. Golf is full of paradoxes like that. Walking up the fairway, I realized I had to talk to him about this. Soon, we’d all be in our cars heading back to the urban day to day and there’d never be another chance. What was this all about? So I let him know how amazed I was by the conviction in his swing.

He replied politely, if somewhat distantly, “You have to trust your swing. Really, truly trust it. Then, whatever happens, happens and you live with it. If you can’t do that, this game’s too hard.”

“Lots of people say that,” I replied. “But they don’t swing as quickly and confidently as you do. Have you always played this way?”

“It’s taken me years to get to this place. But I have to do it like this. I’m not talented enough to make it work any other way.”

We’ve all heard about how we have to trust our swings. It’s one of the most common truisms of golf. You could say the same for a chef, who has to trust his ability to slice meat or vegetables so that every one is precisely the same width and do it at inhuman speeds without leaving his fingers on the cutting board. Or even something basic for all of us like opening a door or putting on our socks. This guy was doing that with his golf clubs.

He had about a 20 footer for his birdie and ended up two putting. Needless to say, he just walked up to the putts and hit them. It was a routine par. Routine on the card, at least.

Click here for more discussion in the “Golf Talk” forum. 

We share your golf passion. You can follow GolfWRX on Twitter @GolfWRX, Facebook and Instagram.

5 Comments

5 Comments

  1. Troy Vayanos

    Jun 30, 2012 at 6:15 pm

    This type of golf would really help take the thought and uncertainty out of the golf swing. It would stop you from over thinking and putting any bad thoughts into your head.

    Not easy to do for everyone but definitely worth a go.

  2. Pat mcl

    Jun 29, 2012 at 6:44 pm

    You should write a book! Very well written.

  3. john jung

    Jun 29, 2012 at 11:46 am

    very will written. made me feel like i was reading a good book.

  4. Nevin

    Jun 29, 2012 at 9:27 am

    Very interesting article. Worth thinking about.

  5. tdelam

    Jun 29, 2012 at 9:21 am

    I find that the best way to swing too. I have ALWAYS swung like this from the very first few months I started getting into golf years ago. I found that if I practice swung, I would try to think too much about the execution when it was time for the real shot but I already knew what I needed to do before I swung my practice swing, after all; that is why I made a practice in the first place!

    Great read! sounds like a good end.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Opinion & Analysis

The 2 primary challenges golf equipment companies face

Published

on

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

Continue Reading

Podcasts

Fore Love of Golf: Introducing a new club concept

Published

on

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!

Continue Reading

Opinion & Analysis

On Scottie Scheffler wondering ‘What’s the point of winning?’

Published

on

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

 

A post shared by BBC SPORT (@bbcsport)

“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.

Continue Reading

WITB

Facebook

Trending