It started with a sawn-off 7-iron. It was a clunky, heavy old thing – reduced to about 20 inches in length and with a funky blue, ladies’ grip. My father had it “custom built” for me in 1984, when I was just four years old. He took me, that funny wee club and a selection of battered balls to the village green and showed me how to make a basic swing.
I couldn’t swing the club properly because it was a bit heavy, I certainly couldn’t lift the clubhead much above waist height, but I managed to make contact a few times and I can still, just about, remember a feeling of excitement at moving the ball forwards a few yards. I had to be physically removed from the village green that day apparently. I was too young to know it but I had become addicted to golf.
In the early years, just moving the ball was satisfaction enough for me. I was elated to see it get airborne, to watch its piffling little flight. But then I would hit it a little further, maybe a little higher. The thrills just kept on coming.
I played my first full 18 holes of golf at Cullen Golf Club in the northeast of Scotland when I was five. I had to miss a couple of shots out because the carries were too long but I completed a scorecard that my parents still have in a photo album somewhere – I think my (unofficial) score was something like 156.
Improving is Addictive
(Image credit: Getty Images)
But, that was a starting point to improve upon and improving in anything is somewhat addictive. How far might you be able to go? – Would I be as good as Seve one day? I do remember having vague thoughts like that when I was about nine or 10. Exceptional naivety, and if poor old Seve could see my short game now… well, I would suggest he wouldn’t see my short game, as he would turn away very quickly to avoid catching something awful!
Anyway, I was addicted to improving and that saw me through my teenage years – I got a first handicap of 17, it came down to 14 the next year, 10 the year after that, and then six, then five… it was exciting to keep seeing little improvements.
Of course I was addicted to golf when I was getting better. The question really is, why did I continue to be addicted to golf when I stopped getting better?
Things can only get better
There’s always something to work on…
(Image credit: Kevin Murray)
To be honest, it’s because I still think I can get better. That may be delusional but I do think it’s possible, even in my mid 40s. I can’t hit the ball further than I did when I was 20 but I can hit it straighter, I can lose my temper less frequently, I can be better at course management, suffer fewer three-putts. There’s loads to try to achieve to sustain my addiction.
These days though, it’s not just trying to play better that fuels my golf addiction. There are plenty of other factors.
Firstly, I’m addicted to the whole process of golf: Thinking about your day on course, preparing your equipment, planning your timings, arriving at the club and speaking with the pro, meeting your playing partners, battling round (good or bad), going for a drink in the clubhouse afterwards to celebrate, or laugh it off. To me, there are few more enjoyable ways to spend free time and I feel better on the days when I get a chance to play. That’s at the root of most addictions, the action makes you feel better, even if just for a few hours.
Social Addiction
It’s a supremely sociable sport
(Image credit: Kenny Smith)
I’m addicted to the sociable side of the game. I get pretty crotchety if I don’t see friends and golfing acquaintances often enough. I enjoy my free time at home far more if I’m also out and about a bit (at the golf club that is) … A healthy social life is about finding the balance between time with family and with pals. I’m sort of addicted to getting that balance right. … Family first – of course!
Playing different courses is addictive – Getting the chance to play at venues where I haven’t played before, or going back to favourite tracks I haven’t visited for some time gives me a buzz. There are clubs where the hairs will stand up on the back of my neck just when pulling into the car park – Nairn and Dornoch spring to mind (and the Old Course at St Andrews), but what real golfer doesn’t get a bit emotional on the first tee of the Old?
I also find golf provides catharsis, and that’s an addictive phenomenon. The worries of the world disappear when you strike a perfect drive down the middle of a beautifully mown fairway. Golf can act like pressing a re-set button to get you back on track when feeling a bit down or a little overwhelmed by life. The company, the fresh air, the physical activity – these are all healthy things that make you feel better and, as I say, things that make you feel better tend to be addictive – you want more of them.
It’s good to be addicted to golf. In an age when many of us spend too much time staring at a screen, it delivers a healthy form of escapism. It certainly beats doomscrolling! You’ll be looking at a screen right now reading this – Can I suggest you go out and play some golf?
