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Monday, 23 February 2015

THE FUTURE OF GOLF: a (serious) reflection


There is a rash of suggestions out there that bears witness to the impending demise in golf.  And indeed there is a downturn in the numbers of new participants being recruited to the game in the current times.  The past few years have seen the number of young players in Britain halved while the USA, the new and untraditional “home” of golf, has seen half a million regular players desert the game.  Fingers point continuously at slow play being the culprit.  The argument goes that if we somehow jump on the bandwagon of speeding things up, then all will be hunky-dory in the land of fairways and greens.  Instead of the normal eighteen holes taking over six hours to play, it will be done and dusted in half the time, and the young, the old, the great and even the not-so-keen will flock onto the tee boxes in their millions.

The debate was further fuelled by Rory McIlory’s comment in recent weeks, when asked by the BBC about the fall-off in players, and his response gave wings to this notion of slow play being the slayer of golf.  McIlroy was quick to point out that slow play needed to be eliminated at grassroots only, while players of his calibre should not be required, or penalised, for such play.  

In my humble opinion and as a newcomer and beginner in this great game, the argument does not hold up on many fronts.  Little does McIlroy seem to recognise that slow play, with its painstaking pre-shot routines, focused study of greens and the steady reconnoitring of terrain for course management, comes as a top down model.  Slow play is beamed out to every home on the planet through the media of TV.  We are all familiar with the edited cut, the pan of the camera from the popular player to the more obscure one when the popular player is in contemplative mode.  Anyone who has walked a tournament in full swing will know that it is precisely the interaction of variable speed and pause that causes the contrast, and therefore the drama of golf.  It is a head game that relies on the minute counterbalancing of concentration, nerve and conscious self doubt that renders a shot effective or a fail.  Slow play is therefore an integral part of the game and is necessary at amateur and professional levels in equal proportions.

Most sports are built on acceleration of thought, grasp of opportunity, speed and competitiveness but golf stands alone in that it is a game of focus, played one shot at a time, and is executed in such a manner as to render it almost pedantic as it is played primarily against the course itself and ultimately against the player and their capacity to control their clubs and ball.  It is also unique in that it is perhaps the only sport in which the ball is played away from the player.  Ball sports played against an opponent will trigger the natural fight or flight response which engenders, anatomically and physiologically, an adrenaline surge – and hence the capacity for rapid response – while golf requires the opposite: the calming of the monkey brain.  Its very nature is based on a downturn in response, a calming manner and a slower style of play.  These responses will vary from player to player.

Reducing game time by nearly half will not necessarily make a round of golf any more attractive to those in demanding and time-consuming jobs.  It is far easier to indulge in many more activities for relatively short periods of time on a daily basis – like tennis, football, running or cycling – and see greater results than the time required to grow a game of golf.  Golf is by its nature slow but that very essence is what makes it attractive, and to seek to speed it up – the latest fad being in football golf or increasing the hole size to pizza-sized holes – seems to rob the game of its greatest assets: being outdoors for long periods of time, employing the mind to work out the changing facets required in course management, the balancing of club against terrain and each other, the maintenance and endurance of mind and body in all elements, remaining calm and relaxed under pressure to produce and perform consistently, and the social triumph of a day well spent.  In our time-strapped society bent on instant gratification and rewards, the long traditions of golf hold small attraction to a younger audience.  Speeding up slow play will not solve these problems or increase its appeal.  There is so much more that needs to be addressed – like outdated dress codes, a myriad of stupid, anarchic rules, a misogynist outlook from a male-dominated sport, and the poor image perpetually propounded by the Royal & Ancient.

While sauce for the goose should equal sauce for the gander at all levels of play, it is naïve for anybody to believe that eliminating slow play has any solid evidence of increased recruitment of numbers or, indeed, that it is the only cause of the game’s loss of appeal.  I’ve read a million reasons why the game of golf is dying – and it is; I could add a million more of my own – and I might; but they are all down to personal opinions.  Not one of them is research-based and that’s because nil-to-very-little research has been done.  Without research, and the subsequent formulation of a concrete approach from that research, the best response we can hope for is hotch-potch solutions in isolated pockets of the world.  Am I the only idiot on the block who’s figured out that if golf dies, a whole lot of jobs might go?  It’s an industry, right?  I cannot fathom why independent studies, much less meta-analysis, have not been carried out.  I work in a world whose very existence depends on these sorts of reports and analyses.  There are many stakeholders and businesses with overt and vested interests in the business side of golf that could easily head up research, postulate solutions, pilot the ideas, and carry best solutions into reality.  But it’s not happening.  It’s looking like everyone is out to prove Charles Darwins’ theory all over again – survival of the fittest.

Here are a few articles to whet your appetite on the state of play today:












Sunday, 8 February 2015

ON THE ORIGINS OF MAMIL

Crank up the volume.  Shout it from the rooftops.  Let it be known far and wide.  I’m in love.  His name is Vassos and he’s Greek.  He could be a Greek god but I have no idea.  He might even be dressed in an eclectic fusion of classic-on-contemporary, flamboyant-on-elegant metrosexual man-gear or a simple brown paper bag but I wouldn’t know.  You see, I’ve never met him.  But love him I do.  Vassos hangs out on The Chris Evans Breakfast Show and delivers daily potent pint-sized pieces that keep me bang up to date with the shenanigans of the sporting world.  I listen to him most mornings but the other morning, he grabbed me by the ears and I haven’t been the same since.  Perhaps I never will.

Every so often he comes up with a gem of an idea, a germ of a theory that takes my breath away and the other day was no exception.  Not only do I play golf, I digest vast tracts of theory, articles, forums, videos, vlogs, blogs and reviews like they’re going out of fashion.  I have enough golfing information-flow in my head to sink the Titanic all over again.

I’ve read a million reasons why the game of golf is dying – and it is; I could add a million more of my own – and I might; but they are all down to personal opinions.  Not one of them is research-based and that’s because nil-to-very-little research has been done.  Without research, and the subsequent formulation of a concrete approach from that research, the best response we can hope for is hotch-potch solutions in isolated pockets of the world.  Am I the only idiot on the block who’s figured out that if golf dies, a whole lot of jobs might go?  It’s an industry, right?  I cannot fathom why independent studies, much less meta analysis, have not been carried out.  There are many stakeholders and companies with overt and vested interests in the business side of golf that could easily head up research, postulate solutions, pilot the ideas, and carry best solutions into reality.  But it’s not happening.  It’s looking like everyone is out to prove Charles Darwins’ theory all over again – survival of the fittest.  Bring it on.

Now back to Vassos and time to get on with my hot topic.

Vassos found a man to blame for the decline in golf.  He pedalled out Bradley Wiggins (Yes, Sir) and then added the rider MAMIL (for the phonologists among us, sounds like mammal).  While I was doing my best impression of an Incredible Me Minion “WHaaat?” while on the traffic crawl to work, his dulcet tones continued to explain that Middle Aged Man in Lycra (Yes, MAMIL) has abandoned the weekend five hour golf outing for a much quicker two hour fix of serotonin and nor-adrenaline – with a massive cardiovascular workout thrown in for free.  Back home, smug and satisfied, he’s now ready to spend the day with family.  And this all started around the time Wiggo was making his Lycra-clad wheeling form famous.  It seems middle-aged golfing man is easily influenced, abandoning the fairways for the lure of polyester, spandex, and a saddle.  Who’d have thought?  And nobody has come close since to putting the brakes on this Diaspora.

But I have news for you, Vassos.  There’s one that got left behind. How should I best describe him?  More V-Tub than V-Dub.  On his own.  Practising his driving skills and approaches.  Not bothering to putt on the temporary greens.  Out on the course on a Sunday morning.  Not an inch of spandex.  Or a yard of lycra.

Like the polite golfers we are, we wave him through and he plonks his ball to the left but level with mine, just off the green.  Note the fact that he’s arrived in this lie after two shots on a par 5 while I’ve arrived there by way of a million laughs, a game of hide and seek in the gorse bushes, and by some anarchic miracle that results in me landing at this spot with the same ball in my possession that I started off the tee box with.  I’m feeling proud.  It’s a Titleist Pro V1. 

He passes by.  We exchange polite, meaningless words and he heads for his ball, except – wait a minute - he scoops up mine.  I was still reminiscing on the V-Dub moment and was deep in Francophile mode so I had to use all my reserves not to shout “Faux play”.  The phonologists among you will have spotted immediately why this would not be appropriate.  Me, I’m saying nothing more. 

But I couldn’t let him run away with the Lamborghini Veneno of golf balls and all the blood, sweat and tears I had endured to shift that little white ball up the course to that particular lie.  Once I got over the shock of non-MAMIL skirting away with my property, I yelled in my best Cockney parlance “Oi you, I think you’ll find that mine”. He dropped it pronto and took off like a scalded cat.

Well, Vassos, he’s one I haven’t seen for a while and I am rather hoping he has pursued your theory and has become new MAMIL man.  Should he ever steal my ball again, I shall be deploying a not-so-nice French technical invention.  It’s called the guillotine.