Right Happy Elbow

From what I know, there are dozens of things to pay attention to when trying to hit a golf ball properly, from keeping your lead forearm straight through the back swing, to connecting with the turf just a smidge below the ball in such a manner as to make that perfect sounding “thump” at the moment of impact. Over the years, I’ve tried to figure out what exactly to think about when taking a swing, or if I should not think at all.

I went to the driving range today, after not having hit a golf ball for a year. I expected nothing from myself. I expected nothing from the visit, except for a bit of space and quiet. Luckily, it was 2pm on a Thursday, so hardly anyone was around. The day was just warm enough to sweat a little, with a light breeze to cool the sweat.

In the past, I would get at least a medium bucket of 60 balls, and more often a large bucket of 80 balls, or more. I would force myself to hit every single ball, until my aim and composure was gone from exhaustion. I would force myself to keep hitting with the same club until I got the swing memorized, near perfect. I would force myself to keep hitting until my hands hurt. Only when I perfected the swing using the same club would I go to the next.

Today, I got a small bucket, 40 balls. I took my time stretching. I watched two young brothers with matching junior golf bags and same-colored shoes follow their father to the first tee. I heard children walking home from school on the sidewalk next to the street. I didn’t hear birds. I didn’t hear cars. I noticed that some tree branches were partly obscuring the California flag on the right pole, and that all three flagpoles were at full mast. I realized that a significant American figure hadn’t died recently.

After fifteen minutes, I decided to hit the first ball. It felt good. The ball went straight. The ball went far enough to be good enough.

During that first swing, I noticed that my right elbow was happy. It was happy because it was in the right place at the right time, doing the right thing, and so was the rest of my body. My right elbow was happy because I didn’t go too fast, or too slow, didn’t swing too hard or too soft. My right elbow was happy because I enjoyed the scenery. And I had turned my cell phone off.

And so before each of the next 37 swings, I focused on my right elbow. As I was swinging, I would ask it, “How are you feeling during this swing?” When I paid attention to my right elbow, a good swing happened. When I didn’t, a bad swing happened.

Out of 38 swings, I listened to my right elbow 30 times.

With two balls left in the bucket, my right elbow told me that it wanted to go home. And so I did. On the walk back to my car, I again noticed the tree branches partly obscuring the flag. A white truck with four golfers backed into a parking spot. I didn’t hear the birds singing not because I wasn’t listening, but simply because there were no birds singing. A light breeze blew past the left side of the back of my head, and cooled me.