Bass: Think you aren’t good enough at golf? Think again.

Lake Carroll golf course in Lanark features elevation changes on almost every hole.
Lake Carroll golf course in Lanark features elevation changes on almost every hole.

Outside, Ben is smiling. Inside, Ben is gnawing.

The guy Ben taught how to play golf now keeps beating him, and so Ben is beating himself up a little.

Because this is what we do to ourselves.

I meet Ben (not his real name) by chance. We are on the practice green. I ask him which hole he is targeting, so our putts don’t cross. He smiles.

“I’m going to miss, anyway,” he jokes.

This intrigues me. So we talk.

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Ben seems like a nice guy, friendly, probably 40-something. He speaks softly, expresses frustration with self-deprecating humor and a clear explanation of what he believes is wrong. Let’s call it Ben’s theory of relativity.

He can occasionally sink a medium-range putt, and so he expects to make them regularly. He can hit an iron shot straight and 140 yards on the range, and so he cannot fathom why it veers right and goes 110 yards on the course. And, yes, he judges himself against the former pupil who now schools him.

Now he’s better than me,” Ben says. “But he plays a lot more.”

This is not about logic.

This is about what we do to ourselves.

We compare. And fall short. “Someone Else” does it better. Someone Else putts better, makes more money, moves up faster, chooses smarter, adapts quicker, makes friends easier, speaks more eloquently, handles adversity more confidently, writes more effortlessly, makes the shots we don’t. This gnaws at us.

“I should make those shots,” Ben says. “Golfers on TV make them all the time.”

On some level, we know it is unreasonable to compare ourselves to the best, but we still do it. Or we compare ourselves to ourselves at our best.

That shot of your life? Memorable. So why can’t you do that all the time?

It is human nature.

And it is madness.

* * * * * *

Me: “The hole over there is about 18 to 20 feet away. What percentage would you reasonably expect to make?”

Ben: (Pauses.) “About 15 percent.”

Which is about PGA Tour level.

* * * * * *

What are we doing to ourselves, people?

It is time to stop the insanity.

True confession: I spent a lot of years comparing myself to Someone Else. At best, it could motivate me. How can I improve? I will feel better when I come out on top. At worst, it could tear at me. What’s the matter with me? I stink.

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Truth bomb: I am fine, but my perspective was off. If I Someone Else always was better, what did that say about me? When would I be good enough? What if I thought of myself as good enough and better appreciated where and who I am? Would that be vanity?

Or sanity?

The backyard looks out over the eighth hole of the Cincinnati Country Club Golf Course.
The backyard looks out over the eighth hole of the Cincinnati Country Club Golf Course.

And so, I come to you to declare my independence from Someone Else Syndrome – or at least to keep working on it. Care to join me?

* * * * * *

Ben hits his three 20-foot putts over a bit of uneven terrain. Two stop a few inches from the hole, one rests a foot and a half from it. Ben smiles, but not a happy smile.

Ben: “See what I mean?”

Me: “That actually looks pretty good, considering you only expect to make 15 percent.”

* * * * * *

You might kick yourself because you can’t swing like Someone Else. But Someone Else might be jealous of another person’s putting. And that person might be jealous of another golfer’s handicap. And that golfer might be jealous of the balance in your life.

And around and around we go.

The grass might seem greener for Someone Else, but you don’t really know. What if you spend more time judging the greens and less judging yourself? Why not focus more on what you ARE doing? And what you CAN do?

Competition can be healthy. It can inspire you to aim higher. It can test your skills. What if you set reasonable goals and expectations? What if you stop focusing on your score and take advantage of the moment? What if you view a wayward shot as an opportunity to work on a recovery shot? What if you succeed without winning? What if what you did was good enough?

Comparison can be helpful. It can provide context and a benchmark. It can raise your awareness. How do YOU change when the circumstances do – say, when transitioning from practice range to competition? What works for you to stay centered, and what doesn’t? How different will it feel to celebrate small steps instead of cursing the missteps? What if you turn your self-loathing into curiosity when you like how Someone Else handles a situation, and ask yourself (or that Someone Else) what would help you try that?

See the world as it is. You are good enough, win or lose.

But what if you can be nicer to yourself?

* * * * * *

Ben: “You’re making me feel better.”

Me: “Thanks, Ben. This is what I do. I love coaching people, including golfers.”

Ben: “I’m sure you are a lot better than I am here.”

Me: (Laughs.) “You should watch my putting. (Laughs.) I work with people more on the mental end. We focus on the process and what you can control instead of the result. When you do that, and just focus on the next shot, the results tend to improve, too. When you have less stress, you tend to play better. We can be pretty hard on ourselves. How does beating yourself up serve you?”

Ben: (Laughs.)

* * * * * *

Ben is clearly a better putter than I am. I resist the urge to feel bad about that. I used to be hard on myself around more advanced golfers. Now I can smile and wonder if any golfers beat themselves up for losing to me.

I have come a long way.

When I play now, I usually don’t keep score, and I play multiple balls. I can have fun and work on my game. I have been dealing with injuries the last few years, and I am trying to slowly get myself back into playing shape.

This is reasonable for me. This is enjoyable. I focus more on the good shots I hit instead of the clunkers.

* * * * * *

Me: “Do you focus mainly on the shots you don’t like?”

Ben: “No, I will remember that one birdie putt I made. It keeps me coming back. Of course, then I expect to make more of them.”

Email Bass at mbass@mikebasscoaching.com or reach out to him @SportsFanCoach1 on Twitter if you want to be included next week. His website is MikeBassCoaching.com.

This article originally appeared on Cincinnati Enquirer: Mike Bass column on frustrations that come with the game of golf