Major Casualties, Pt. 2
One of my Majors this summer was the Fox Chapel Golf Club Men’s Club Championship. It’s an awesome opportunity (and no small privilege) to have the chance to compete at a place steeped in tradition among a myriad of awesome amateurs. I live in Brooklyn and play a lot of golf at the local munis, sprinkling in a few fortunate rounds at some of the great clubs in the area when I’m invited. As a non-resident member I relish these rounds at the Fox and recognize them as a measuring stick for my game and how I’m growing and changing as a player. 
The 8th green at FCGC. A beast of a hole. Image courtesy of the USGA.
I’ve spent the past 5 years working on compression. Plain and simple. I used to scoop the rock like it was a pint of mint chocolate chip. Release it early, add loft and pick it off the grass. I got away with it, too. Young and athletic, and playing a good deal of golf by mid-summer, it wasn’t impossible to time it up 35 times a round. But guys my age would hit it past me off the tee by 50 yards. I’d hit 4 irons from 185. And I could never quite defeat the dreaded snap hook.
Thousands of swings. YouTube clips. That drill with the alignment rod up my forearm. Keeping a ball beneath my right foot through impact so I’d keep my right hip from sliding closer to the ball. You name it, I’ve tried it. I’ve seen ‘em all. I’ve got hundreds of videos on my phone – down the line, head on, even a couple where I somehow got my phone camera to rest on the top of the hitting bay so I can see how it looks from above (which doesn’t help much to be honest). It’s gotten a lot better. And you can barely, barely tell. I mean a half an inch, a couple degrees.
I stepped onto the first tee as a 2.3 handicap this year. There were 8 or 9 players in the field with caps better than mine but any player close to scratch sees their GHIN as less of a ranking and more of an indication of where your game’s at lately. I realize that for some clubs, the only guys with a chance to win are + handicaps who break 70 frequently. But when it comes to competing and putting the ball in the hole, your history, your ceiling and your floor don’t mean much. Memories are irrelevant once the tee’s in the ground. A lot of solid players can shoot par on any given Sunday – just as they can shoot 80 with a few bricked putts and a couple bad tee balls.
Fox Chapel Golf Club is a subtle demon. There are a lot of places where you can be on the wrong side of a hump or bump and you’re looking down the barrel at a double bogey. If you’re going to compete, it’s key to avoid those spots and keep the ball on the right level. And I did just that for 17 holes.
The 17 at FCGC – Biarittz. Talk about humps and bumps. Image courtesy of the USGA.
The 16th fairway at FCGC. New bunkering makes this tee-shot uniquely challenging. Image courtesy of the USGA.
On the 18th hole I hit a ball so far left that it reached a hazard I didn’t even know was there. There are duck hooks and there is what I did on 18 tee. Off the face, foul ball. Retee. I made a 7 – the only double of the day.
I was having fun until then.
I missed the cut by 4 shots. 78. I will think about that swing on the 18th – and any other combination of missed opportunities that would’ve lowered my number to the definitive score of 74 – for a long, long time.
It’s hard to lose.
I read a book a long time ago called “Golf is not a Game of Perfect.” A lot of the book is about picking good targets, aiming small and missing small, and remembering how infrequently we hit 10/10 golf shots. I might read it again after last weekend.
Again, perspective.
I’m reeling. It hurt. Thinking about all the different ways it could’ve gone down the stretch. Majors are Majors because they only happen once a year. I’ll have to wait another 365 before another chance – and I’ll think about all the different ways I could’ve been 4 shots better the whole time. 
The 18th fairway at FCGC. Image courtesy of the USGA.
