03/09/2026
GOLF, LIES
"and 60 Attempts to Understand Why I Never Learn*"
They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.
Golfers call it Saturday.
After roughly sixty rounds, you’d think a man would have learned something.
Not to hit driver over water when he’s never managed it before.
That an “easy approach” is rarely easy.
That a three-foot putt can somehow feel longer than the flight from London to Bangkok.
That the new YouTube video you watched the night before is not, under any circumstances, going to transform your swing overnight.
And yet.
Every time we book another round, we do it with the optimism of a gold prospector holding a brand-new shovel.
**This time will be different.**
And that’s where the lies begin.
Not the big lies.
Not the kind that get you sent to prison.
The little ones.
The necessary ones.
The ones keeping the golf industry alive.
“I’m just going to stay calm.”
“Today I’m playing safe.”
“I don’t need to hit it that hard.”
“I’m not giving away stupid shots on the back nine.”
“I am absolutely not trying to hit it through that gap in the trees.”
Three holes later, you’re standing with one foot in a ditch, trying to manufacture a low draw under a branch you couldn’t even see from the fairway.
Because somewhere inside every golfer lives a person who is absolutely convinced that the next shot could be the best shot of his life.
Despite all the evidence.
Despite the history.
Despite the witnesses.
And the strange thing is...
Sometimes it is.
Not often.
But often enough.
A perfectly struck iron.
A chip that checks and stops three feet from the flag.
A putt that actually drops.
And suddenly you look at your playing partners with an expression that says:
“There. That’s the real me.”
As if the previous ninety-nine disasters were nothing more than an administrative misunderstanding.
Then comes the next hole.
Where your drive discovers a part of the golf course that isn’t even shown on the map.
Where you four-putt from fifteen feet.
Where negotiations begin with both the golf gods and several major equipment manufacturers.
And when the round is over?
You’re sitting in the clubhouse.
Tired.
Slightly sunburned.
A few golf balls poorer.
And you say:
“I really wasn’t far off today.”
Which, loosely translated from golf language, means:
“I have learned absolutely nothing, and I fully intend to do exactly the same thing again next week.”
And maybe that’s exactly why we keep coming back.
Not because we’re stubborn.
Not because we’re stupid.
But because every now and then, golf gives us just enough hope to make us believe we’re finally starting to understand it.
When really...
we’re just about to begin attempt number sixty-one.
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