Digging For Clarity

Goals

I don't know if everyone who golfs has goals. A lot do. A lot don't.

I do. In fact, I have more than one.

I used to be able to go three or four rounds without a 3-putt. Now, not 3-putting today is a more realistic goal. I don't do it often enough.

How many fairways I hit and how many greens I hit in regulation are two more. The goal—as many as possible. That's always doable.

I also pick a score I want to shoot. I'm fair about it, but I usually pick low for the challenge.

80-ish.

My best score this year is a 74. I did that in the great state of Texas.

My last goal is to shoot my age.

I'll be turning 70 in a few months.

I'm healthy. I still hit the ball well and can keep up with most kids. I still have a good mind and can hold my concentration well enough to do this.

I believe that as long as I keep it as a goal, it's possible.

Which brings me to something that's probably more of a dream than a goal.

My son beats me sometimes. He's a good golfer and fun to play with.

Can he shoot my age for me?

I'm thinking—sorry, boy. No.

That leaves my grandson. He's only now entering his second year of playing golf and just made his high school varsity team.

That boy has game.

If he shoots my age for me, it will bring me more joy than if I shoot it myself.

And I don't think he's very far from doing it.

Yet...

I still wanna shoot it.

Money

Sports. Should that name be changed? To “Money” maybe?

The American Championship tennis match is being played tonight in NY. Tune in to Money on Channel 7 to watch.

It's possible the trophies the winner of Money receives are worth more than the average salary in this country.

Are we still watching a sport, or the birth of a new sport — Money? Who makes the most?

Do we really think these athletes are more loyal to the sport and their fans, or their financial advisor?

This is not just tennis. It’s all sports. They all now think of themselves as equity partners in a business they did not create.

Top athletes? Maybe. And some of them are close. Even they don’t discuss it, but they want all their fellow athletes to have a share in the Money. It’s only fair, right?

I’m monied out. I quit watching baseball in the ’80s when an underrated second baseman signed a $7M contract. I remember it clearly because at that time I was raising a family and had to steal 50 cents from my daughter’s piggy bank to buy a pack of cigarettes the day before payday. And no, I never paid her back. Baseball lost all its meaning to me that day — and to this day.

In the 1970s, the Dodgers kept the same infield together for eight straight years; today, most teams can’t keep one intact for three games. Why? Money.

Once the million‑dollar barrier was broken, players wanted more and more and more — in every sport. Deserved? I don’t think so.

I watched golf, which could have been renamed at the time as “Half‑Ass Money.” Arnie, Jack, and Tiger each played a hand in changing the name to “Money.” I guess it’s the natural progression of sports.

Top college athletes now leave college as multi‑millionaires. They’re not rookies. They don’t sit at the kids’ table at team functions. They sit right next to the stars. And they buy houses right next to the stars.

I don’t see the cycle of Money stopping until the players own majority equity positions in the business they did not create.

What happens then? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it will happen in my lifetime.

In five years, Scottie Scheffler has won over $100M playing golf. Wow. He’ll pass Tiger next week. Add another $50M a year in sponsorship money — maybe more. That puts him somewhere in the range of 250 other athletes in sports who make that kind of money. It’s definitely good to be Scottie — the number one player in the world.

A second‑year PGA Tour player who had his first win said it costs him $50,000 a week to play.

I’m thinking the days of a poor Mexican kid, Lee Trevino, making it to the big leagues on natural talent are close to gone.

I’m not arguing talent, however. A rough figure: only about 1 percent of college athletes make it to the top pro level in their sport. And not all of them hang around long.

Somewhere around 2055, at the rate we’re going, one athlete will be signing a $1B contract — for one year. I hope you’re related to them. I probably won’t be around for that, but I have a 1 percent chance ;)

To all athletes: while you enjoy the fruits of your work, the Money you are demanding will eventually be the downfall of the sport you love. Athletes behind you will take the hit so you don’t have to. I worked 50 years to have enough money in retirement to do the things I want to do. You have three people watching only your money accumulate. And you probably have two people watching those three people. You have maids, cooks, mansions, 20 cars, doctors, shrinks, chauffeurs, yard workers, and Lord knows everything you could possibly want or need.

When the employee makes more money than the owner, kiss your sport goodbye.

KEEP THE DREAM ALIVE

I shot an 81 yesterday. 28 putts.

The score was good, but the putts tell a different story. I putted very well. I didn't do much else well. Had my irons been better, I could have dropped into the mid-70s.

Not my age, but close.

I learned two things from this round.

First, I need to stop getting fancy with slicing and hooking the ball. At a certain point in any round, I start thinking I'm better than I actually am at that moment. So I try to move the ball instead of going with my consistent straight shot.

My son calls me on that all the time.

I don't listen.

I should.

And I will.

Because I want to shoot my age.

The second thing I learned just came to me this morning.

Many years ago, I asked a pro friend of mine, who I'd known since high school, if I should change my grip.

He said no.

Gregg, you've learned to play with that lousy grip. You're a good golfer. Keep it.

So, keep it I did.

If you watch me, hard as this may be, for 15 minutes, you will probably see me standing there practicing golf.

In the living room. In the kitchen. On the elevator. In the hallway of any building I'm in. Waiting in line.

I don't know what this says about me, and I really don't care.

What I think it means is that I'm trying to shoot my age.

Today, I put my hands together in my lousy grip.

My miss, when I miss, is almost always left. I blame it on closing the clubface and the ball going left.

What I realized this morning is that my grip may be what's closing the clubface—sometimes.

There are three different kinds of grips. Mine. Weak. And strong.

I know a lot about the golf swing, but my grip falls somewhere between weak and strong.

Forty years after being told to keep the grip I have because I was a good golfer, I realize maybe that advice was coming from a guy who just wanted me to buy the beers when he beat me by 10 shots.

So here's the plan.

First, the range.

Try it.

Change 55 years of habit.

Give it a few weeks to make the new grip feel normal.

Second, listen to the son more.

Third, shoot my age.

Lastly, bronze the clubs and hang them on the wall in my living room.

Job well done.

FRIENDS

I don't physically like getting older.

I do like how I think differently now. I see something. I think about it. I listen to my inner voice about what it means to me.

I wrote earlier about losing a friend I hadn't seen or heard from in 50 years.

How should a person react to that?

I don't know. It had never happened to me before.

Was he really a friend?

I have concluded—yes.

We make friends as children because that's how we learn to live in the world we're entering.

Later, we make friends with people who share our interests.

As teenagers, we make friends to help us fly through life as fast as we can, like a rocket.

The teenage years are when we make good friends. Lifetime friends. People you depend on, need and love.

Are they really friends, or are we just sharing the same experiences?

Mostly, we're sharing the same experiences.

The thing is, we need these friends. We crave them, maybe. They were there when we were growing in ways we couldn't comprehend or imagine, and we took each other along for the ride.

Then life enters.

Marriage. Babies. Jobs. New friends.

Life takes on a different meaning. You're not chasing it quite as much anymore. You're adapting and living in the moment more.

You're still running, but you slow way down.

It's not an easy transition, but most of us survive it.

Today, I talk to my friends almost every day. They're the ones I needed to stay.

I've slowed way down.

I actually have time now to think things through.

Sometimes that's good.

To all the friends in my life who are only a memory today—thank you.

You were there when I needed you.

You helped shape me.

You had an impact on my life.

You were my friends.

AMERICA, THE GREAT ERASER

I had the same barber for 12 years. She was a different sort, a family friend. I sat in the barber chair last year to face a larger than life image of the murderer Mangione. He shot a man, a husband and father, in the back and killed him because health insurance is not fair. I told her celebrating a murderer wasn't something I wanted to be looking at in her barbershop. She said she didn't put it up. She cut my hair and I've never seen her again. I only regret I didn't walk out before the haircut.

A lot of things are wrong in this country and a percentage of them would kill those responsible because they are mad. And then jump for joy on Facebook.

They argue freedom of speech.

I argue freedom for the mentally ill to participate in a society they clearly don't belong in.

There is a limit. There is a line that should not be crossed. It's there. But every time we reach it someone erases the line.

HOW TO SAVE MONEY PLAYING GOLF

My golf app, GolfSolo — Scorecard, tells me I’m a 10.2 handicap.

I don’t get discounts at golf courses. I buy premium golf gloves and premium golf balls. I pay eight bucks for a beer, and if I eat lunch there I’m closing in on two hundred dollars.

The list is very long of things I would not do if I had to pay two hundred dollars to do them.

I’m not looking for cheaper golf. I could probably find that in almost any state other than Colorado. We have too many golfers here. The courses know it, and they can charge whatever they please.

And they do.

Golf gloves are expensive. If I need one at the pro shop, I pay eighteen dollars and hope to get ten rounds out of it.

To put that in perspective, a pro might change gloves several times during a round depending on the weather.

They get theirs free, however.

Three premium golf balls cost about the same as the glove. Around six dollars a ball.

The pros get those free too.

I usually lose one or two balls a round. Yesterday, my original starting ball lasted seventeen holes.

I lost it on eighteen.

Wide right.

Woods.

Penalty.

This is my hobby, and it’s not cheap.

The ball I normally start with is what the pros use — a Titleist Pro V1x.

Yesterday I was running low, so I bought three TaylorMade balls in the pro shop. I sometimes find as many as five nearly new balls during a round, but I give those to my grandson.

Instead of using one of the new TaylorMades I’d just bought, I pulled an old ball out of my bag called a Nitro.

It looked good enough.

I’ve always considered Nitro balls kind of a joke.

They’re not.

That damn ball lasted seventeen holes.

It’s also about five dollars cheaper per ball than the ball I thought I needed to play because I’m a good golfer.

So I ordered a dozen.

$12.99.

I did a little investigating first. I wanted to know what kind of ball I should be using at almost seventy with a swing speed around 105 miles per hour.

First of all, that’s pretty fast for an old man.

Just sayin’.

Turns out I’ve been paying a lot of money for a golf ball for one major reason:

The pros use it.

Yesterday, the Nitro gave me everything I needed. My driver flew miles. My irons held the greens. And I putted as if I actually had some idea how to putt.

Would a Pro V1x have saved me a stroke?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

The Nitro certainly didn’t stop me from playing good golf.

Goodbye, Titleist.

I’ll still use your golf balls when I find them on the course — which is all the time because everybody else is buying them.

Savings: about $15 every time I play.

Next: gloves.

I needed one yesterday.

Eighteen dollars plus tax.

Costco sells four Kirkland golf gloves for about twenty dollars.

I’m done branding myself with an expensive glove too.

Savings: about $15 every time I need a glove.

Then there’s beer.

During my five- or six-hour adventure at a golf course, I’ll usually imbibe two or three.

At eight dollars each, that’s twenty-four dollars plus tip.

My son has convinced me beer is good for our golf games.

I’ve convinced myself it keeps me hydrated in the hot sun.

Are we both right?

Yes.

There are considerably cheaper ways to acquire three beers than buying them individually from a golf course.

Enough said.

So I’ve learned something.

Golf doesn’t necessarily have to be quite as expensive as I’ve been making it.

Save on the balls.

Save on the gloves.

Save on the beer.

Which finally brings me to golf clubs.

If you’ve read this far, you now know it’s possible to save money playing this game.

And there’s absolutely no reason not to.

Except when it comes to clubs.

If you’re playing a set you got from an old neighbor who gave up golf, found at a thrift store, or bought as a cheap starter set at Walmart:

STOP.

Go to a reputable golf store.

Pay $1,200 for a new set of irons.

Irons only.

Then $800 for a driver.

$400 for a 3-wood.

Feeling chipper?

Throw another $350 at a 7-wood.

Is that a lot of money if the store throws in the headcovers for free?

Yes.

But we’re not done.

$500 for a new bag.

$300 for a top-notch putter.

And honestly, you’re going to need two more wedges because they didn’t come with the irons.

$175 apiece.

Now add Colorado sales tax and you’re approaching $4,000.

Congratulations.

You’re a golfer.

Save money anywhere you want.

Just don’t be cheap when it comes to the clubs.

You’ll feel good.

You’ll look good.

And your game will improve by miles.

Probably.

If improving isn’t your goal, that’s okay too. Sometimes churches have a set at the rummage sale for fifteen dollars.

But seriously.

Buy the new clubs.

Remortgage the house if you have to.