Playing golf with a friend of mine one day, we decided to do a little experiment. Before every shot, we agreed to share what was going through our minds. Man, was that revealing. It was a windy day. I hate playing in the wind. On the fourth tee, I let it be known that I hate the wind – for the fourth straight hole. My friend, Bob, made note of that and asked me when I was going to stop complaining about it and start accepting it. Yikes. That was a pretty big poke in the eye, and a much needed one. And there was more to it than meets the eye, actually. Turns out that this unfortunately is a trait of mine that I really never knew of. If I don’t like the way things are going, I complain…a lot. Not something I’m proud of, but not something I ever knew about myself either…until golf revealed it to me. Later in that same round, we were playing a tricky 220 yard par 3 over water. I hate this hole. It’s a really difficult shot off the tee to make the green, almost all carry over water. I told Bob how intimidated I was as I stood over the tee shot, and let ‘er rip. I survived, but barely, and I was just glad it was over. Then Bob stands over the ball. I ask him what’s going through his head. He said he loves this hole. Now that didn’t make sense to me. Bob, although a better athlete, wasn’t as big a hitter as me and this was a long, surgical shot. I asked him why he likes the hole so much, and he said he thinks it’s an easy hole. That’s because he was just going to throw it out to the right – to a bail out area that I’d never even noticed – and then get up and down for his par. Now this was interesting. The thought never once crossed my mind – I never even saw this an option and never even considered the possibility. Not that I was being realistic, but the way I approach golf (and life) is to go for the pin. That’s the idea, right? Get it close to the hole and then get it in the hole. In hindsight, I was not playing the odds or within my limitations. It’s just the way I think when I play the game. And it doesn’t always work out. Now Bob had a completely different filter in place. He sized up the shot, assessed the odds that he could execute it successfully, and then played it safe. And it worked. We both laughed when reflecting on this insight – I’m a risk taker who shoots for the pin (even when I shouldn’t). Bob’s not. He calculates the path of least resistance to get to the hole in light of his strengths and weaknesses. I shoot straight at it, regardless of the odds and no matter what’s in my way, or whether it’s even remotely in my wheel house. That insight, along with several others, has far more levels to it than just a golf game. It signifies how we approach life. It also underscores the importance of self-awareness and the power of knowing your capabilities and respecting them. And knowing this about ourselves can have lasting implications. We both grew that day from these insights. And we gained these insights in one round of golf. It confirmed for me that the parallels between golf and life are uncanny. And if you pay attention, you can allow the power of this game to open your eyes in remarkable and impactful ways.
A quick aside – why is this hole called “Counting Crows”? I’ll make a long story short and keep it simple. The Counting Crows are an amazing live band, for a lot of reasons. The band members are all incredibly talented in their own right, but understand their role, which is to support the storyteller and front man for the band, Adam Duritz. And what a storyteller he is. His unique ability to access his emotions and articulate them, whether healthy or not, and to do so night after night, year after year, is remarkable. Vulnerability on steroids. And back to the band. Every night, as Adam relives the depth of his emotions and feelings that shaped the song he’s singing, it comes out a bit differently every single time. And the band gets to follow those feelings and support his story telling. It’s awesome. It’s raw. It’s vulnerable. It’s playing the game (and the music) the way it’s meant to be played.