Can golf still be a spiritual experience in 2024?

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I remember being around ten years old and finding the book Golf in the Kingdom in a now-defunct mall bookstore chain called Waldenbooks in Plattsburgh, NY. I read the first few pages sitting in the aisles while my parents shopped elsewhere—even writing this now, I find myself longing for the kinds of things we did pre-Internet—and was intrigued enough to buy it. I have not read a page of Michael Murphy’s book in the 30 years since, but the book impacted me enough that I still have a memory of certain moments, and I can even remember the feeling of sitting in the family car and reading it on the long drive home. There aren’t many books that I immediately associate with a sense of place decades later—Catcher in the Rye and 1984 are among them—and it takes a pretty stirring experience to get lodged in my brain to that degree. Now, I have no idea if I’d still consider Golf in the Kingdom a good book. I have no intention of reading it again—I’d like to leave the memory intact, and the worst thing that could happen would be to crack it open now and discover that I now find it cliche or hokey. I’ll leave my 10-year-old self alone. But I thought about it recently because of how it created a romantic association in my brain when it came to golf. I didn’t play at the time and wouldn’t for another 20 years, but when I read about the Buddha-like character of Shivas Irons, and how the narrator experienced a kind of halo around physical objects as he approached a state of nirvana on the course—I have a memory of the trees seeming to pulse with light—it seemed to promise the possibility of enlightenment experienced through golf. I’m not sure what I ever did with this, but it undoubtedly influenced my early days of watching tournaments like the Masters. When I finally started playing, around age 30, I only experienced romance in very fleeting glimpses, and not on a level anywhere close to the brimming spirituality of the kingdom of Shivas Irons. Today, a decade later, the professional game is about as unromantic as a sport can possibly be, and getting worse all the time. I’ve written before about how we have to turn away from the big money aspects of golf to discover meaning anymore, but what actually happens when you inward, to your own game? Obviously, that’s a very personal question, as is the question posed in the headline: Can golf still be spiritual? I hope the answer is yes. And I fully recognize that my particular breed of hope comes within the reality of what golf actually is, most of the time. One of my two most common modes on the course is when I’m chasing some specific accomplishment, like posting a good number or winning a match, in which case I’m hopeful and tense. The other most common mode? Anger. I’m working on it. But what about a pure, unfiltered spiritual experience? I’m not asking for Shivas Irons here, just a round where the mind is uncluttered and the predominant feeling is one of gratitude. Like many modern human beings, I find it hard to exist “in the moment.” Even if you put me in front of the most beautiful landscape on earth, I’m going to start thinking about how I should take a picture and post it on social media. I’ve been glued to the Internet for far too long, and my attention span has been massively warped, so even if it was theoretically possible to just experience a moment for itself in some bygone age, it ain’t happening for me now. Golf, however, gives me my best chance. Sure, if I’m on the verge of a really good round, I’m going to be thinking about how I’ll tell the story later, and ditto if I’m playing a beautiful course somewhere. But because golf lasts four hours or longer, and requires a certain amount of concentration, it’s also more immersive than your average trip to a tourist destination. And it’s that immersion, that time spent, that makes it such a delightful separation from “normal” life and the synapse-burning experience of just being alive in 2024. The closest I’ve come to feeling something spiritual recently was a round at Royal New Kent outside Richmond in September. The unbelievable natural beauty of the place and the creative layout by the genius Mike Stranz had a way of taking me out of my head. I played as a single on my way up north, and after six holes I had to wait for foursomes ahead of me all day. It didn’t matter—I was playing well enough and the weather was perfect enough and the course was inspiring enough to make it a fulfilling day. I’m not saying I escaped my brain—there were still moments of frustration, or anxiety, or a thousand other intrusions from ordinary life. But on balance, I slipped into the rhythm of the day and let it carry me along. I felt peaceful and grateful. I’ll always have good memories from that day. A few weeks later, seeking out that same sensation, I played Tot Hill Farm, another Stranz course closer to home, with three friends. It was also beautiful, the weather was also perfect, and the company was superb. And yet, I played so badly that it crushed my enjoyment, and if I were closer to home on a more average course, I would have left after nine holes. Afterward, I felt briefly disappointed not just at the day, but at myself for not getting past my own miserable play and entering a satisfied mental state. Where was the peace and gratitude now? Then I let it go. To the extent that golf can be a spiritual exercise, even in my cynical and brain-fried middle age, it’s not going to happen often, and it’s certainly not going to happen when you force it. When it comes, the most you can do is open yourself to the feeling and live inside it, and understand later that if it wasn’t rare, it wouldn’t be special. FIVE TOUR THOUGHTS: HERO WORLD CHALLENGE EDITION 1. This, to me, was such an interesting response from Scottie Scheffler at the Hero World Challenge presser on Wednesday when someone asked what he and Tiger spoke about on the course:

First off, it’s hilarious in the sense that he had been asked about money issues a few times earlier in the press conference, and this was a question that wasn’t explicitly about money but he seemed to hold his annoyance from before and unleash it here. Now, granted, he was smiling, but there was a sense of being sick of the discussion. Why? 2. Because, earlier in the presser, he was asked about being paid to play in the Ryder Cup. And his answer was fascinating, because on one hand he started out by saying “as far as I’m concerned, I think all of us on the American side are more than willing to play in the Ryder Cup for free. We’ve been playing in the Ryder Cup for free for a long time.” But on the other, he also said the following things: “If they want to pay us to play in the tournament, that’s great. I mean, as far as how much or what it should be, I mean, the tournament seems to make a good amount of money.” “As far as I’m concerned, if somebody has a problem with us getting paid, I’m more than happy to — I mean, I don’t have a problem with it at all.” “I don’t think there’s any problem with guys getting paid to play in the Ryder Cup. I don’t think it takes away from the competition at all.” What I think he’s getting at here, and what I agree with, is that it’s insane for entire organizations to make a ton of money off an event while the players who are the main attraction and the reason that revenue is generated in the first place to get bubkus. But he’s saying it in a more veiled, polite way, because it’s so easy to twist a player’s words on this subject into something like, “selfish millionaire demands cash to play for country in historical event!” Which is BS. Not being compensated for labor is always wrong, and no less so here, and I like that Scottie, even in a quiet way, said it. 3. Staying with Scheffler, I also loved the honesty of the quote below, which actually came as a response to a question about the Tour’s direction, but which turned into something I’ve been dying to know regarding his feelings about the 2024 season and Xander Schauffele: We’re overpaid as it is, we’re overpaid as it is. I play golf for a living, I don’t really do anything that special, I just hit a golf ball. I’m grateful for what we play for out here, but what I love is the competition. I think as much as we can get back in the competition of it, I think that’s a good thing. I think if you look at a year like Xander had last year and a year like I had, I think that’s great for competition on the Tour. A year like Xander’s, I had a great year but sometimes you almost feel jealous of a year like Xander’s because he won two majors. It’s incredible, isn’t it, that you can win the Masters and Players and an Olympic gold and still look at a guy who won two majors and feel jealous. I love that he went there and admitted it. Would you trade Scottie’s year for Xander’s? I actually think it’s a tough question, and ultimately comes down to how much you value that gold medal. I think if push came to shave, I’d take Scottie’s, but that’s mostly because I’m an Olympic freak and winning a gold medal is too historic to pass up. But—hopefully this makes sense—if I were Xander and already had a gold medal, I’m taking the two majors. This might be the toughest question in golf right now. 4. Are we about to have an Aaron Rai moment? Seeing him in the field at the Hero, I just have this feeling Aaron Rai’s moment is upon us. This could be wishful thinking, though, because I also wear two black gloves and will automatically throw my full support behind a fellow two-glover. Maybe this is our moment. 5. I read through Tiger’s press conference, and while it wasn’t a waste of time, I can honestly say I don’t really have any strong opinions of what he said. LIV negotiations are still completely obscure, his body still seems to be falling apart, and if anything I’m just impressed he’s still out there being an ambassador. But it feels hard, in 2024, to have any strong feelings on the Tiger front right now, even though he’s still what most of us want to talk about whenever possible. THE ABSOLUTE IRONCLAD LOCKS OF THE WEEK Golfpocalypse is not a gambling advice service, and you should never heed anything written here. Better picks are here. Career Record: 7-49. Folks, we’re coming off a massive two-win week, my first ever, with Nelly Korda winning the Annika and Rory winning the DPWT final! Even Michael Kim, my Tour pick, finished 12th. How long can it be until we’re all waking up in gold houses, eating gold cereal? At the Hero, to hell with it, I’m rolling with Aaron Rai. We’re three weeks away from the Year of Two Gloves, and Rai’s win this week will be the distant sound of horse hooves on the horizon. Everyone who has ever made fun of me will cower before the beautiful spectacle of two black gloves hoisting a trophy, and together Rai and Ryan will rule golf for one thousand years. At LIV Golf International Space Station, I’ll go with Oleg “Mandolin” McGill. THE “DUMB TAKE I KIND OF BELIEVE” Speaking of clothing, the visor is the ultimate piece of utility headgear ever invented, which is proven by the fact that it still thrives despite looking desperately uncool. It’s so useful that we’re all willing to look like dorks. (Except Ian Poulter, who looked badass in the old Cobra visors.) READER EMAIL OF THE WEEK This one comes from Grant: I was on a 10 day golf trip to Scotland in 2022 that had been postponed by 2 years due to Covid. Myself and 3 of my best friends were on our next to last day playing Royal Dornoch. Playing those last few holes with the sun setting and realizing how blessed I was to be in such a special place with great people is something that I will hold dear for the rest of my life. Our group of 4 still talks about that round of golf. I loved this email because it’s so simple but so relatable. Also, I really want to play Royal Dornoch Previously on Golfpocalypse: There is nothing stranger than a golfer’s brain…just ask us I have the dumbest golf pet peeve, but I can’t shake it If you talk about politics on the course, please, for God’s sake, stop Loving Golf in 2024 is about finding where the money isn’t I believed in the magic of Tiger Woods when I was a kid, but I’m a cynic now If you can enjoy playing golf alone, you have achieved Nirvana I took 12 stitches to the head for golf before I even loved it An annual ‘Friends Ryder Cup’ trip is the greatest thing in golf Marshals at public golf courses need to get way meaner I, and I alone, have the genius tweak to fix the Tour Championship It cannot be fun to play golf when you’re egregiously bad Confession: I break clubs when I’m mad Playing golf in bad weather makes me feel alive Caring what other people think of your golf game is annoying to other people Sympathize with Rory, because choking sucks

This article was originally published on golfdigest.com