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It's been almost three weeks since my last entry, but I've been working on my game nonetheless.  I've gotten in a handful of rounds with practice sessions sprinkled in between.  My game has been steadily improving and for the most part, struggling only in areas that get neglected during practice.  Because as I'm sure many can attest to, when one area is struggling and another is going well, the area that needs work gets it during the ensuing practice, and the area that does not, well, does not.  

Unfortunately for most of us, golf isn't our life and therefore the time spent perfecting it is compromised.  Nevertheless, we press on.

For my last round this Saturday, I tackled a 6,368 yard course that only two weeks earlier got the better of me as I shot a 97.  This time around, though, thanks to my driving being slightly better, leaving me with more accessible approaches, and my putting much more rhythmic, I shot an 89.  What's more, because of fluid strokes with the flat club and an 8-Iron chip in on the first hole, I accomplished an earlier goal I set out for myself: playing a round of 18 with 36 putts or fewer with at least two birdies.  

The chip in on No. 1 marked the first and after a 120-yard pitching wedge over towering trees to within four feet on No. 10, I had two birdies in a single round for the first time in my playing career.  Having finished the round with 29 putts, I'm happy to report a 2010 goal has officially been checked off.  But not without some psychological angst.

Before I get to the four foot putt on No. 10, allow me to backtrack to the first overbearing mind hurdle I encountered.  Not to bore you with the details of a horrendous hole, let's just say it had it all: a three-putt, a penalty stroke, a little ping pong golf back and forth over the green, all culminating with a quadruple bogey.  Now look, writing an eight on a scorecard isn't new for me, but handling the necessity of overcoming it is.  

Maybe it's because, in order to promote timely play, it's the limit for a par 4 on most courses.  Or because it's a "snowman".  Or perhaps, and I think this is where I have a hard time, somewhere in the back of your mind you realize you just added four additional strokes above par to the day's total.  

On this particular day I wrote an eight and allowed it to muster around in my head for a good three to five minutes.  It suddenly became three dimensional.  Lifting itself from the scorecard, I began seeing the intersection of two circles joining forces to crush my front nine.  And then out of nowhere the training I'd been working on took over and I refocused for my next drive, which, by the way, was probably my best or second best of the round.  Immediately after I picked up my tee I thought one last time of the "eight" and said goodbye to worrying about it for the remainder of the day.  

The next psychological challenge  was my four foot birdie putt on No. 10.  My two playing partners took a little longer than usual to get inside my ball and actually holed out before I attempted the putt.  During this time I desperately fought back potentially damaging thoughts, having first stuffed down the reality that it was in fact for birdie.  What was worse, I found the thought creep into my mind that if I missed, my back nine might be doomed.  It was at this point that I settled myself down and instead concentrated on the line.  It was mostly straight on, with about a half of a cup right-to-left break.  As I let it go I knew it wasn't as firm as I wanted it, but it had just enough revolutions and dropped for a mentally-battled three.  

Some might worry less than I do, but controlling our thoughts is an art that must be nurtured in order to play good golf.  It's the unseen variable that makes this game so fascinating.  Other methods might be better suited, but personally, I seek to find the moments that need work and then proceed to make concerted efforts to stay mentally strong within them.  Like we all realize, golf requires focus on every shot, but the key is to train the mind to avoid outcomes, and instead worry about execution.

With this in mind for the future, I hope to have a more level-minded approach.  

And if I can find optimal balance, better scores will come.

Hours of practice: 446

Houston, we have a slight problem.  A little over two weeks ago I awoke with a flickering flash in my right eye.  It was just off to the side and had little impact on my round of golf that day.

About a week later, and a little bit more obstruction in my eye, I played two rounds of golf with my in-laws, but refused to succumb to the displeasure I was experiencing, at least for the second 18 anyway.  During my first round I encountered a range of emotions.  On one hole I'd hit a great shot, only to struggle as I looked down on my ball for the next.  This didn't necessarily affect the shot, but it would remind me of what I was dealing with, which in turn had an effect on my psyche for the next shot.  Needless to say I didn't play well.  

After another week, as the light in my eye increased with intensity, I decided to visit an optometrist and was told of liquid leaking behind my retina and that if it reached my macula - the part of the eye responsible for seeing - I'd have a problem.  

Well, I'm sad to report that it has, and in doing so, has entirely blurred the vision in my right eye.  And as of this past Sunday, has officially affected my ability to play golf.

Perhaps in denial of my issue, I to hit the range for a few hours of iron work.  

About 15 balls in I realized I'd made a huge mistake.  I contemplated returning the buckets I'd purchased, but instead pressed on.  The ball stood near my feet, but my inability to have any depth perception made it appear closer (or farther) than it was. (If you want to understand how I see the world right now, cross one eye and leave the other straight.)

At first I couldn't believe it was my eye causing the shanking to occur.  I passed it off as some mechanical flaw and worked on fixing it.  But as my shots continued to be offline, and my frustration grew, the session spiraled out of control.  Maybe it was a mechanical issue, but not being able to clearly see the ball confused my common sense to the point where I worried about my grip, left elbow, weight distribution, top hand through, eye on the ball, etc.  Was it my eye or my game?  

I finally came to a conclusion: even if it was my game, I couldn't play golf again until I my vision returned to normal.  To me, It made no sense to play a game that requires so much emotional stability with a mind that had none.  The irony of it all is that I approached this practice with an enormous amount of confidence.   

By the end, though, I felt discouraged, resentful, embarrassed, sorry for myself, uninspired, and concerned that I'd never play golf again, let alone see. (I know.  I need some perspective to comprehend it not being the end of the world.  But taking away my ability to play golf is, well, think of your absolute passion in life and imagine it being robbed from you.)  

Truthfully, I'm not sure what's bothering me more.  My eye or the idea that I'll have to regain the form I've attained to this point.  I feel as though, because my session was filled with utter nonsense, the blow my confidence took is going to have more of an impact on my game than my eye will, at least in the short term.

But then again I'm really not thinking clearly right now.  I know one thing: you really take for granted how vital both eyes are when hitting a golf ball.  When watching the pros play now, it's all I can think about.

As for my game, from the time I left the range to the point you read this now, all that keeps playing over and over in my mind is my ball dashing off to the right, and the feeling as though I've never played this game before.  

Two eyes or not, it's simply a terrible feeling.

Hours of practice: 424

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This blog has given me enormous opportunities up until this point.  Among them was when Josh Karp, a writer from Illinois, reached out to me with an offer I couldn't refuse.  

Josh had written a book about golf entitled Straight Down The Middle: Shivas Irons, Bagger Vance, and How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Golf Swing and because I wrote about my game here, asked if I'd be interested in reading it.  

Without any hesitation, I said yes and eagerly awaited its arrival. 

To put it simply: I enjoyed every word.

If you're like me and love reading about golf and other peoples' experiences, then please make this book your golfing choice for 2010.  It's honest, funny, insightful, relatable, and above all, inspiring.  Josh's style is fluid and gives anyone with a plus 20 handicap an escape from their over-analytical mind (or any handicap for that matter).

It may not provide concrete guidelines on the mechanics of a swing or offer instructions on how to hold a club, but the encounters and stories told allow the reader to behold their own endless possibilities, all because Josh had the drive to pursue his.   

Josh didn't hold back when finding his golfing partners, either.  He sought an "effortless" swing with Yoni Zaluski; balance of body and mind with Jim Waldron; played 18 with Dr. Joseph Parent, the creator of Zen Golf; combined martial arts and golf with the "Golf Sensei"; and even flew across the pond to play a few rounds in golf's homeland, Scotland. 

Along his quest to find the meaning of golf, if you will, Josh lowered his handicap from 18 to 11 and found moments of "golf ecstasy."  While reading, I couldn't help but imagine what a round of golf with Josh would be like, and couldn't help but admire his journey.

One day I hope to in fact play 18 with Josh, but until then, Straight Down The Middle showed me that it's not all about shooting a perfect score.  It's more about enjoying the ride.

If you pick up this book, I promise you'll feel the same.

Thanks, Josh.

Hours of practice: 411