Are you an 'irrational’ golfer who kicks yourself when you’re down? There is hope.

Note to Coach’s Box readers: This is my weekly column for the Cincinnati Enquirer and Cincinnati.com.

By Mike Bass
mbass@mikebasscoaching.com

A golfer friend we will call “Happy” loves the idea of playing a round with someone new, someone he knows or recognizes, someone who might even be pretty good.

He just hates how uptight he feels beforehand.

The angst over how he will play can hijack his thoughts and emotions the night before a round.

“I don’t have to be great,” Happy will tell himself. “I just don’t want to be terrible. I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

His performance anxiety feels horrible. It siphons off the excitement of a cool opportunity. He knows it.

He calls himself “stupid” and “irrational.” He feels horrible about feeling horrible. He compounds his self-torment.

This happens to Happy on the golf course, too. When the game is not being good to him, he is not always good to himself. The anger and frustration build. A bad day on the course can leave him in a bad mood the rest of the day.

He calls himself “stupid” and “irrational” for this, too. ’Round and ’round he goes again, like water swirling around and working its way down a toilet, flushing away his confidence and turning him against himself.

“What if it isn’t stupid or irrational?” I asked him. “What if a lot of people feel that way? This sort of thing comes up all the time when I coach people, even outside of sports, and they don’t see how this affects them.”

Piling on a football opponent costs you 15 yards; piling on yourself keeps pushing you down and can turn habitual.

Happy did not realize how self-destructive he was being. This was his ah-ha moment in our coaching session.

Awareness and acceptance are huge first steps to making changes, and Happy wants to make changes. He wants to care less about what he will do on the course and enjoy himself more. He had hoped playing better would help. And it did. To a degree.

He had dedicated himself to improving his golf skills, to combat the uneven play that could set him off and keep him from fully enjoying his social outlet. The work paid off in a lower handicap and often a better temperament, but not the consistent level of joy he coveted.

Happy had resolved to have more fun on the course and take himself less seriously, even putting it in writing. It did not stick. So many golfers say they want to enjoy themselves more, but willing it is not always enough.

‘Piling on a football opponent costs you 15 yards; piling on yourself keeps pushing you down and can turn habitual.’

What if Happy approached learning and practicing mental and emotional skills with the same dedication he used to improve his golf skills? We started to explore this.

First, stop calling himself “stupid” or “irrational” for how he feels before or during a round. Happy already employs other great tools, such as using humor to relax with new partners, and telling himself the golf gods can loan you the perfect draw one day and repossess it the next.

He wants to be OK whether he shoots on the low side of his range (83 or 84) or on the high side (96). Because that is golf and he is not Mickelson, Woods or Rahm.

“I keep telling people” he said, “if Dustin Johnson shoots a 77, that is the equivalent to me shooting 96.”

Happy said he is not as obsessed about his game as he might sound, that being with friends provides his true enjoyment in golf. He is comfortable with them. They know him. They know his game. Once he starts playing with someone new, he tends to relax quickly and be fine.

Either way, when he plays below his standards, he will hear about it – from within. And the agony will not stop.

“In the middle of the night, I will be replaying it over and over,” he said. “I want to let it go. It’s OK to be bad sometimes.”

I commend Happy for facing his fears, which are very real to him and very common. He is afraid he will embarrass himself. He is afraid his game will backslide after all his work. He is afraid he cannot stop being so hard on himself. A “bad” round reaction can reinforce his fears.

It was time for a reframe.

We started to discuss shifting his focus from outcome to performance, from score to process. What if a day of inconsistency provided an opportunity to work on recovery shots or strategy adaptation? Even a Dustin Johnson has to grind through a round sometimes.

The more we talked, the more I heard confidence and competence. He knows he generally is skilled enough to rebound after an errant shot. He knows a backslide can be as fleeting as a golf-God-given day. He knows others do not judge him as harshly as he judges himself. That is the kind of self-talk that can motivate him.

‘In the middle of the night, I will be replaying it over and over. I want to let it go. It’s OK to be bad sometimes.’

He will keep score in his head instead of on a scorecard, because he fears what he might see. “It gets me rattled to write down a 7,” he said. This is understandable, but  outcome-driven. There is another way.

What if he looked beyond the 7? What did he learn? Which shots went well? What if he recovered adeptly to prevent a higher score? What if it was an aberration? Or (and this is the big one) what can he practice if he feels rattled?

We brainstormed a few ideas to deal with his emotions. Taking deep breaths. Trying upbeat self-talking. Seeing where he is – on a course, right where he wants to be. Letting go of the score.

Here is the kicker: The more he focuses on the process, the more likely he will hone his game, see more options, stay focused, enjoy it more AND score better.

And the more he practices these and other mental and emotional skills, the easier they will become.

He will not be perfect. And that is the point. He never will be. But he can be what he wants to be.

Happy.

Remember to email Bass at mbass@mikebasscoaching.com or reach out to him @SportsFanCoach1 on Twitter.