Fearless Golf: Conquering the Mental Game

driver’s-eye view of oncoming traffic. And, of course, you’d probably sat in a parent’s lap and steered the family car in the driveway when you were a youngster. Now, however, that parent was sitting to your right, in the passenger seat, and you alone were in control of the vehicle. All two tons of metal on the open road rested in your untested hands. In an instant, any excitement was tempered by uncertainty, hesitation, confusion. As the car lurched forward, you mashed on brakes or overcorrected a turn. As cars approached from the opposite direction, you slowed to a crawl and hugged the white line on the right edge of the road, no doubt kicking up gravel, to the consternation of mom or dad in the seat next to you. Though in another setting, in front of a video monitor or with the car sitting in the driveway, you were calm, comfortable, and in control, here, now, it was as if the car was some kind of rabid animal on the verge of plunging into a death spiral.
    Now, think about the last time you drove a car. If you are like most people, you probably made a phone call or two, adjusted the heating or air conditioning, and changed stations or CDs on the car stereo several times. You steered the wheel effortlessly with just one hand, or maybe with only a couple of fingers, or perhaps even just with your knees. You hardly noticed oncoming traffic, and if you did it might be only to admire another driver’s new Lexus or BMW or Mercedes. You believed you were in complete control of this hulking two tons of steel, even at speeds well over seventy miles per hour.
    So, what was at the root of the difference between that first driving experience and the last? What was present in the first session that wasn’t there in the last? That’s simple. It’s what I consider to be the most destructive force in any human endeavor: fear. Fear confuses us, limits us, and causes us to achieve less than our abilities otherwise would allow. It blocks us, and with each successive failure, it gathers strength like a virulent disease.
    Now, what happened to improve the last time at the wheel over the first? Experience, namely, the kind of experience that breeds calm, comfort, and confidence. If fear is the great enemy, its undefeated conqueror is confidence. Confidence does not ignore fear, it overcomes fear. Confidence starts with knowledge, understanding, and accomplishment. As skill develops, so too does the potential for confidence. Each time we move past fear, we increase the likelihood for success. Confidence strengthens our resolve, even when success is not immediate. Confidence builds on itself, each new experience is fueled by the last and then goes on to fuel the next.
    The sports psychology of golf, the mental approach to success in the game, is all about this struggle between fear and confidence. Ben Hogan once was asked to describe golf in a single word. “Sideways,” was his answer. It was a remarkably perfect assessment in its simplicity. If I were asked to describe the aim of successful thinking in golf, my answer would be just as simple and just as direct. That one word is “Fearless.”
    I believe that if there is one universal experience golfers of all levels encounter, it is fear. It doesn’t matter whether you are trying to win a major championship, playing in the first round of a club championship, teeing off for the first time ever at a company golf outing, standing on the eighteenth tee with a chance to shoot your lowest round ever, or playing a quick nine holes before sundown with a stranger at the local muni—fear looms large in every instance. And it is my belief that the fear the potential major champion faces is in its own way no different and no less destructive than the fear the weekend golfer senses on a quiet Saturday morning.
    Fear comes in many forms. We fear failure and ineptitude. We fear embarrassment and the unexpected. We even fear, as Franklin Roosevelt told us, fear itself. We fear who we’re playing with, we fear being watched by friends, and we fear being watched by people we don’t know and will never meet. Insidiously, fear travels in disguise, largely because we are afraid to admit we are afraid. Only cowards are afraid, and we are afraid of being labeled a coward. We are so attuned to fear that we have become adept at living with it, and learning to hide it from those around us. Laughing and making excuses is easy, much easier indeed than confronting fear on your terms. It hurts to