My friend Moe is “Old-School” Brooklyn, born and raised and having spent his plus 70 years in the Borough of Kings. About once or twice a year he and I go golfing at a course in Southern Brooklyn, about three long drives and a chip shot from Jamaica Bay. When I play with Moe, I always come away with some unexpected wisdom, which, like my putts, takes a while to find the mark. On one outing, for example, I was playing poorly, not uncommon, but the level of bad shots squeaking off my clubs was exceptional. After another dribbling drive, I banged my wood hard to the ground, shouting out choice words with more force than the swing I had just taken. Moe immediately interceded.
“John, John,” he said, his voice as calm and smooth as his follow through, “why are you getting so mad?”
“Because I stink,” I returned. “I can’t hit the ball.”
“You hit it.”
“Barely past the tee.”
“So what, now you’re closer. That’s how I look at my shots. Short, long, middle, whatever…as long as I’m getting closer to the pin, I’m satisfied.”
It took another few holes of hacks and slices and hooks until what Moe said found the cup inside my brain: expectation was the source of my trouble, not my swing, not my wobbly hips, not my sloppy wrist turns, not even the choice of my club, but the choice I made before each swing. Basically, before I even took a shot, I had determined the best outcome. I had already set in my mind where I wanted the ball to end up. And when it didn’t, when it rolled five yards instead of 300, I reacted with anger, dejection, and frustration.
But once I adopted Moe’s “just get it closer” mantra, things changed for the better. Now, when I step up to the tee, my only intention is to move the ball forward, and since I am almost certain to do so (I admit to hitting a few balls in my life that ended up behind me after colliding with trees, and, even once, a golf cart), I no longer feel rage at an unmet expectation. If anything, I feel pleased by my output, and, with this change of attitude, my game improved. By changing my expectations, by releasing the pressure to achieve a pre-specified goal, I am able, conversely, to reach that goal.
It was a powerful lesson Moe gave me that day, and while it was intended to help my golf game, I have integrated the mantra – “just get it closer” – into other aspects of my life, including my writing practice. Instead of thinking “I must finish an article or story today,” I tell myself, “I want to get closer to finishing an article or story today.” This might mean writing one word, one-thousand words, or just learning why I wrote one word as opposed to 1,000 words. Whatever the outcome, by not affixing a pre-determined result to my work, I have found that the work is more enjoyable and more productive.
Moving forward, I know I will deviate from Moe’s mantra now and again, that I will erupt in anger after hitting a wayward drive, or curse when writing block makes an appearance and I sit with hands rigid on the keyboard. But just knowing this, accepting that I am not perfect, expecting imperfection, helps me get closer to my goals. Babe Ruth once said, “Every strike brings me closer to a home run.”
I wonder, now, thanks to Moe, what a bunt did for him?
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Photo Credit: Pixabay