“Halved hole,” says the foe; but “No,” I say, “No”;
“Putt it out, mine enemie!
You’re dead but not buried.”
He’s shaky and flurried!
Oh! a terrible miss makes he.
Bernard Darwin describes the 12-inch putt that sends shivers down the spine. The one to win the hole, or the match.
I learned my lesson years ago, although I sometimes still fall prey to the natural instinct to avoid failure when someone concedes a putt to me. Once conceded, a putt is made–no declining. But I normally will still finish out unless pressed by the group behind (a tale for another day).
In a match play tournament several years ago I was pitted against an amiable man who had once lived in Lexington, Kentucky. So had I. He played basketball for UK many years before, but returned for at least one game each year. We talked about Lexington and the nice courses the city owns. But on this day, we were opponents.
At the turn, I was already dormie. He had a terrible front nine and was on the verge of simply returning to the clubhouse. I didn’t want to lose my playing partner for the day, as we had always enjoyed one another’s company on the course. I tried to encourage him, and he won the tenth hole. And the eleventh. And the twelfth.
Now I was getting a little frustrated! I tried to bear down and focus, but had already lost that mental edge. And his was returning. We approached the eighteeth hole with me still one up.
All I needed was to tie the hole to win the match. He finished out, and I had a long putt to win the hole. I left it 18 inches wide of the cup. I half expected him to say, “Pick it up,” and congratulate me on winning the match. He didn’t. I almost walked up and simply tapped it in, but chose to “be careful” instead. I stood over the ball, stroked the putt, and it lipped out. On to another hole. And another, which he won to take the match.
Since then, I finish every putt. Well, not always. When I’m with a group I don’t know well, I follow their lead.
It’s a life lesson, as well. How many times do we take the gimme without thought, then quiver at the simplest of tasks we’ve not been required to do for some time? We’ve lost the confidence that comes from dealing with those little things daily, and tense up when that little thing must be done.
My position is that we should give any gimmies during international play. Let those Europeans putt out at 6 feet every time. Maybe then we won’t come up short.
Comment by Slice — November 10, 2004 @ 12:52 pm