by Paul Johnson, LMFT, LPC, NCC
November, 2019
Life can be like golf. My son, Cooper, plays golf. Sometimes I get to work as his caddy. As a caddy, my role is to carry his clubs, clean his ball, and write down his score. Occasionally I say some encouraging things, sometimes I offer an opinion. One thing I am not, while his caddy, is his dad.
On the second hole of a particular tournament, we got to the green after three shots on what was a par four hole. It was a long uphill putt for par. He knelt down to read the break of the green, rose up, and asked what I thought. I told him that it looked like the ball would break slightly to the left on its way to the hole. He looked over his shoulder and asked, “What exactly are you looking at?” I answered, “Uhm, the green.” With mild irritation, he firmly spoke, “There’s no break. It's straight to the hole.” “Okay,” I replied, “I'm just a caddy; you’re the golfer.”
I stepped off the green; he stepped up to the ball. He pulled his putter back, struck the ball, and sent it on its way. It went straight to the hole; there was no break whatsoever. As we walked off the green, he shook his head and muttered to himself, “Sure am glad I didn’t listen to you.” “Me too,” I replied. He then looked at me and asked, “Why did you think it broke to the left?”
Now the dad-in-me felt like it was time to go into lecture mode. Fortunately, I remembered that I was the caddy, so I replied, “That was just what I saw; it was just my opinion. You’re the golfer. Listen to your gut, trust yourself, make a decision, and go for it; put the ball in play.” Which he did, and it worked out fine.
Now, I admit, I am not the best caddy. By that I mean I go too easily into dad-mode to solve everything by a lecture in order to prevent disaster before it starts. Secondly, I really don’t know enough about golf. A little later in the round, we were playing the eighth hole, a long par five. Coop hit a great drive off the tee box, then hit a great second shot with his hybrid club. We were sitting in the middle of the fairway, close enough that a good five-iron would reach the green; except our lowest club was a six. Two bunkers guarded the front of the green and it was raining. A real caddy would have noticed more the effect the rain would have on the flight of the ball. Alas, I am not a real, nor the best, caddy.
“What do you think?” he asked. I took a deep breath and replied, “Ok, so here’s what I think: hit your six-iron as smoothly as you can, as hard as you can, slightly to the left of the hole toward the largest part of the green.” He said okay and stepped up to the ball. He hit it smooth; he hit it hard; it was slightly to the right, which was not exactly the hoped-for way. It actually looked like it might make it, arcing beautifully toward the green. But it fell just short, and unfortunately into the deep right front bunker. But did not just fall into the middle of the bunker; it landed right up against the wall of the bunker, which made the next shot pretty close to impossible.
As we stared into the pit of despair, I advised that he open up his club face as much as possible, and since he would have no follow-through, just to jam the ball up and out of the bunker. He made five attempts, and then we were over our shot limit—stink. We picked up and moved on to the next hole. He was devastated, and I am pretty sure we both felt like crying, because it probably meant we would not reach the score we had set as our goal for the nine-hole round.
Little did I know that he was furious with me. He did not talk much on the next hole; he had a great drive off the tee box, put his second shot on the green, and proceeded to putt for birdie. Ha, we made our score goal!
In the car, after the round, as we were heading home, he shared with me his fury—unleashed it, unfiltered, which for an eleven year old is pretty clean and yet still ruthless. Ultimately, he said that he knew he never should not have listened to me, and that I always gave him bad advice and that I should not be advising him at all about anything on the golf course. Ever. Ever ever ever ever ever.
I sighed, and took a deep breath. I kept my eyes on the road. I took a second deep breath. I drove for another mile in silence. I then asked him what he did with my advice on the second hole. He said he didn't listen to it. I asked him why he did not do the same thing on the eighth hole. He said, “Because you're my dad! And you are supposed to give me advice that keeps me from making mistakes! You’re supposed to tell me what to do!” I sighed. I took another breath. I drove for another mile in silence. “No, son; on the golf course, I am your caddy. Just your caddy. You are the golfer. Sure, listen to what I have to say, but you have to decide for yourself what you will do, based on all the factors that you see. What I add is just my opinion, and sometimes it is not a good one. You must remember that You. Are. The. Golfer. Listen to your gut, trust yourself, make a decision, and go for it; put the ball in play. You are the golfer; I am only a caddy.”
Let me bring this to the proverbial clubhouse: Earlier I said, life can be like golf. A more apt statement is that processing life can be like golf. Golfers spend a lot of time perfecting their golf swing so that on the first shot of any and every hole he or she can put the golf ball where he wants it. That is the technique of golf. But the real art of golf is in the second shot. Because this is one of the rules of golf: you have to play it where it lies. You cannot always control where the ball is going to go with your shot. Mistakes happen; nature interferes. Therefore the art, the skill, is being able to be creative with wherever the ball lies and still advance it toward the hole. Unfortunately, we expect to be better than that, and not have to be creative, nor have to recover. Perfection is the expectation, as if we could accomplish everything in golf on the first (and hopefully only) shot. If that expectation were reality, then, all golfers should only play par three courses, and only make holes-in-one. While that may be remarkable, it is nowhere near reality. Last I checked, reality is where we live.
Golf reality #1: it usually takes several shots.
Golf reality #2: caddies are there to carry bags, to wipe off clubs, clean golf balls, and perhaps keep score. They are the golfer’s on-course assistant. At times, they offer advice, but really are just adding options for the golfer’s creativity to consider. They are not the golfer’s replacement, nor are they the golfer’s motivator.
It is the same with processing life: we often deal with life’s events the way we often expect to play golf. One impulse and we decide this is what we should do with it. No further consideration is needed. But whims or suggestions or opinions or thoughts or emotions are not meant to be a replacement for our choice, nor are they meant to motivate us. They are meant to inform us. They are an integral part to our creative processing. They inform us of possibilities, both positive and negative, of things we cannot readily see but are very very useful in our decision-making. We simply have to listen to them and then fold them in. Emotions or whims or suggestions or opinions or thoughts are only advice. They are caddies, trying to assist, if we have the peace and patience to listen. We have to develop the skill and creativity to consider, utilize, synthesize, and synergize what they say.
Life reality #1: it usually takes more than one idea and one try at something.
Life reality #2: emotions, whims, suggestions, opinions, or thoughts are information assistants, adding options for our creativity to consider; considerations that lead to choices.
Listen to your gut, trust yourself, make a decision, and go for it; put the ball in play.
But what do I know? I’m just a part-time caddy.
To talk further about effectively processing your life (or properly serving as a daddy-caddy), please consider LifePractical Counseling for your counseling or consultant needs. You may reach us at 205-807-6645, or visit our website at www.lifepractical.org. Paul Johnson is a professionally licensed marriage and family therapist and professionally licensed counselor in the state of Alabama.