One of my favorite sports in the world is golf.  To some people, it's a boring activity of the wealthy where one hits a stupid white ball all over the place until it safely arrives in a 4.25" diameter hole.  Mark Twain said "Golf is a good walk spoiled."  For those who become addicted to its charms, however, golf is an endeavor of depth laced with subtlety and nuance.  It's a pursuit that celebrates its rich traditions and overtly extolls the virtues of honor, good sportsmanship and etiquette.  Despite the simplicity of the game's primary goal, it remains one of the most complex and difficult sports to play, let alone master.

I have long been fascinated by golf course architecture.  I don't know how to build a course and I am not completely familiar with a lot of the theory that is used to create one; but I love looking at some of the world's renowned tracks.  As in music, sometimes not having preconceptions about how to do something can result in spectacular results.  Did you know that the famed Pebble Beach Golf Links was designed by an amateur with virtually no prior experience in golf course construction?  God provided the dramatic foundation for the subsequent masterpiece; but the builder still had to have enough sense about how to manipulate it as well as a go-for-broke attitude when committing his ideas to the landscape.   I can occasionally pick out signature traits of prominent designers. Growing up around a Donald Ross course gave me an appreciation for his style and a respect for old-fashioned designs.  Famous guitar builders imbue their instruments with much of the same personality and flair that golf course architects instill in their work.  Sometimes guitar tones can be recognized as belonging to a particular player without a lyric being sung.  Sometimes the identity of a golf course architect is easily realized with an initial glance at a hole.

Any delusions of grandeur that I may have had about my talents on the links as a youngster have been tempered, if not completely eradicated, by my acceptance as an adult that my love of the game will always greatly outweigh my abilities.  I don't practice or play often enough to rightly expect to be any good at the sport.  In fact, I'm usually a downright bad example of correct swing mechanics, course management, and all-around golfing acumen.  Some days, I can inexplicably fashion a relatively non-embarrassing round and navigate the hazards in a manner that encourages me to keep playing (ie: makes me come back for proper humiliation soon thereafter).    I don't golf nearly as much as I used to when I was growing up; but I still enjoy the feeling of getting out on a beautiful course with ideal weather and good friends no matter how high my score is.  Of course (pun intended), I always try to shoot the best that I can, without ever losing sight of the fact that "golf" spelled backwards is "flog".  Believe me, I'm a flogger!

There are a number of parallels that I have noticed between golf and my experiences as a guitarist.  While I would say that I'm a much better guitarist than I am a golfer, I can't help but think of the samurai maxim that says "From one thing know ten thousand things."  The principles of struggle, triumph, discipline, technique, equipment and decorum are all applicable to golfing and playing music.

If you've ever watched Jack Nicklaus swing a golf club or seen Eric Clapton play a Stratocaster, you've probably recognized that these two acclaimed virtuosos can make their respective vocations look easy; but even they struggle at times.  A professional often displays a graceful manner and fluid technique when practicing his trade that can be seductive to the ambitious amateur.  Discouragement can set in when one finds out that great achievements are rarely as easy to attain as they sometimes look.  One of golf's most noteworthy traditions is the annual Masters tournament that is held at the famed Augusta National Golf Club in Augusta, GA.  While it's true that many of the best players in the world participate in the event, the title of the competition can be misleading.  In my opinion, golf is not a sport which is mastered.  For example, as dominant as Tiger Woods has been at times in competitive golf, even he can't win every tournament that he enters;  nor does he always shoot a good score no matter that he tries his hardest to do so.   Some really talented professional players can go an entire career without winning a single tournament on the tour.  The concept of mastery in golf is thought-provoking.  I am not sure that it can be done.

How is it that Phil Mickelson might shoot a 65 one day and then go out on the course and score a 75 the next?  Michael Jordan could score 60 points in a basketball game and then not be able to throw the ball in the ocean the following game.  Is it psychological?  Is it physical?  If someone could bottle the secrets and sell them, they would be incredibly rich.  Most musicians have nights where everything seems to go right on stage, from great tones to perfect note choices, yet the next gig could be exactly the opposite even if it is held in the very same venue under similar circumstances.   The reason that our performances vary greatly from day to day is because we are not machines.  Even the most disciplined humans don't have robotic precision.  Emotion and stamina play a role in how we react to the challenges at hand.  We can strive to minimize these limitations; but instead of looking at them as undesirable handicaps, I believe we should come to terms with our restrictions if not embrace them.

All of us need to play the cards that we are dealt in life.  Some people are bigger and stronger than others.  That could be a big factor in a physical sport that doesn't have firm limits according to size such as football or basketball.  In golf and guitar however, physical strength isn't always the deciding factor in determining success.  Neither is age.  Unlike some physical activities, a person could realistically play golf or a musical instrument for their entire lives.  Allowances are made in golf for differences in physical ability.  For example, there are different sets of tees for players with varying handicaps.   While a true professional tournament requires that everyone plays from the same tees, there are options in the game, even if on a more casual basis, which allow everyone to enjoy golf on a relatively level playing field.  Likewise, there are various shapes and sizes of guitars that address the individual needs of players.   The advent of senior tours establishes a competitive entity for older golfers to enjoy.  It is a game to literally grow old with.  Golf may be more openly competitive than playing music; but both activities have provisions to accommodate everyone's individuality.  Additionally, the player who hits the ball the farthest isn't necessarily the best competitor.  The fastest guitarist doesn't always reign supreme either.  "It's not how you drive, it's how you arrive!"

The parallels between golf and guitar extend into the realm of equipment.  Just as guitarists immerse themselves in the tools of their trade and lust over certain gear, many golfers are hip to the latest and greatest in golf equipment.  New technology is contributing to an evolution of golf clubs and balls, much like the state of guitar is constantly progressing.  While advancements in equipment for both golf and guitar can affect overall performance, one must not lose sight of developing good fundamentals and the discipline to manage the emotional demands that are at every turn.  A person's real ability and spirit are within, not necessarily in the guitars or the golf clubs.

One of my erstwhile golf teachers had a saying that has found its way into my guitar philosophy.  He said "Play the course."   While we may be competing against each other for the lowest score, ultimately we are playing against the course itself.  It's not like in tennis where one has to serve and volley directly against an opponent on a standardized court. No two rounds of golf are identical in execution and no two courses or holes are the same.  Each one of us will play the ball from different lies either in comparison to what our playing companion is doing or what we've done before.  The common goal is to arrive at the destination in the best shape possible; but the paths we take to get there are quite different overall.

Recently, I was playing golf with some friends and arrived at the tee of a Par-3 hole.  I don't remember what the exact yardage to the pin was; but one of my partners asked what club I was going to use.  He said he was going to hit a 7-iron.  I knew that I needed to hit a 4-iron to have a chance to reach the green.  My ego didn't want to admit that I couldn't hit the ball as far as he could and that I would have to use a longer club to hopefully achieve the same results that he'd be able to with a much shorter iron.  Then I remembered to "play the course."  A 4-iron hit close to the hole is worth the same as a 7-iron hit near the pin.  I don't know how knowledge of what club I would choose could benefit him or perhaps any other players because we all have different capabilities.  Beyond that, we don't always make the same swing each time no matter the club.  A caddy can give a golfer helpful information and advice on club selection; yet he does it based upon each individual player's ability.  I play my best when I play within myself according to what I know about my strengths and limitations.   Part of golf's beauty is that we can use our individual faculties to interact on a reasonably equal level.   This is especially true when I pick up a guitar.

Playing music should not be as blatantly competitive as sports are.  Still, we need to learn to "play the musical course" in our own way.  While the goals of golf are more easily quantified than the aims of music are, playing the guitar requires that we navigate a track that is allegorically quite similar to what a golfer would encounter.  Our playing environments on the course or on the stage frequently change.  Even if we are making music at home in familiar surroundings (our "home course" if you will), our emotions and interactions with the muse can differ greatly on a daily basis.  One should not lose sight of his personal abilities.  As the great philosopher Clint Eastwood once said, "A man has got to know his limitations."  My 7-iron golf buddy might play his guitars with heavy gauge strings because he's physically stronger, while I might need to use a lighter set to match up with my strengths.  Should I feel inadequate or ashamed because I do things a little differently?  Of course not!  You use what works for you!   A person who knows how to effectively manage his talents, regardless of peripheral opinions and the abilities of others, will usually perform at a higher level than someone who succumbs to the distracting exhortations of the ego.
 

Jason