There is a certain thrill associated with pounding a drive down the middle of a fairway on a warm summer day. It’s not a feeling of manliness, because women feel it too, but it’s a conduit to a deep sense of joy — like finding a bag of Oreos in the pantry or discovering a seventh chicken nugget when there is only supposed to be six.
This week, I rocked the best drive of my life on the par-4, fourth hole at Riverside Country Club in Provo — the toughest hole on the course. The ever-patient guys in the group, most of them old enough to be my father, were surprised. They had seen my swing many times before. But this time, I got it right.
Driven by a burst of pride and fueled by an inconsistent dose of athleticism, and, if I’m being honest, some surprise of my own, we motored the golf cart past the other balls and over to mine. But as I sized up a manageable second shot, my mind wandered into the dangerous space that is “enhanced expectation” — the kind of brain aneurysm that confuses skill with reality.
To me, this was no longer a “survive and move on” hole, it was a birdie hole, and it was just one more glorious shot away. So, when it was my turn to hit, I confidently lined up and did what Tiger, Jack or Bryson would do — I let it rip. However, unlike the professionals, what I hoped to see happen turned into something else.
Somewhere during the swing, whether it had to do with my stance while shifting my weight while keeping my left arm in while holding the club properly (but not too tight) while keeping my head down and eyes on the ball and while throwing my arms out through the swing, the Titleist turned right and sliced out of the fairway and into the trees 60 yards from the hole.
Dang! (And I said “dang.”) Just like that, the shot at glory was gone and real McCann was back.
There is a rule in golf that requires you play the ball where it lies — and mine was now lying on an unearthed tree root. There is also the famous prodding from the late CBS announcer Ken Venturi that you “never follow a bad shot with another bad shot.”
The paradox was real, and something had to give.
I grabbed a three-iron from my bag and determined to hit the ball low enough to avoid the hanging tree branches and skip it onto the green up near the hole to save par. In my mind, where I remain undefeated, the shot was nothing I hadn’t seen before from the professionals that play each weekend on television.
This time, I did all the thousand things required to get off a good shot, only it was too good. The sublime contact between the iron and ball sent it flying onto the green — and then off it — and down the opposite side and into an annexed creek from the nearby Provo River.
It was gone and so were my big plans. I took a quick look for the ball and found a water snake instead and that was enough for me to flee the scene. Looking back, even the snake seemed disappointed in my performance.
Golf can teach so many life lessons and for me, the most important one is keeping the ball in the fairway. Chances for good decisions and accurate shots are increased when staying away from the hazards like a thick rough, bunkers, lakes, rivers, roots, a drizzly creek and even a reptile. Doing the opposite breeds disappointment, frustration and a little fear — just like life.
As with Oreos and nuggets, a confident golf swing can vanish as fast as it appeared. Once gone, it’s hard to get back and the joy is replaced with the same kinds of emotions you feel when discovering an empty bag of Oreos in the pantry, or finding out you were shorted a nugget or two.
Golf is a game of happy madness and it’s spreading among the young and old. The challenge to find a tee time on Utah’s golf courses, public or private, is evidence the fandom is growing. Sunday’s final round of the U.S. Open peaked with 11.4 million viewers on NBC, where local favorite Tony Finau finished tied for third place.
Watching the pros play golf is one thing but the allure of playing like them, without all the practice, is so challenging that it’s intoxicating. The thrill of that perfect drive or the rush that comes when sinking a long putt outweighs missing those shots and it keeps us returning for more.
It’s not unlike the goals we hope for when waking to a brand-new day, where despite what may have happened the day before, something really cool could be on the horizon and it keeps us going.
So, we play on.
If you do nail that drive, just be leery of the second shot. If done incorrectly, it can turn a smile upside down as fast as a water snake can send me running in the opposite direction. And long live Venturi’s advice — never follow a bad shot (or decision) with another bad shot; just get back in the fairway where the possibilities are so much more possible.
Dave McCann is a sportswriter and columnist for the Deseret News and is a play-by-play announcer and show host for BYUtv/ESPN+. He co-hosts “Y’s Guys” at ysguys.com and is the author of the children’s book “C is for Cougar,” available at deseretbook.com.