Breaks

“Not only am I not very good, I NEVER catch a break.”

–     Me, on the golf course for the last six years…

Until the past two months or so.

More on that in a bit.

Golf is a moronically stupid game, a sadistic and nightmare-inducing hobby to which I have had an unhealthy attachment since 1986 (thanks a lot, Jack Nicklaus!).  The classic love / hate relationship now spans 30 years, and my best estimate is that I’ve said the words at the top of this post at least 13,216 times, give or take.

Until the past two months or so.

Faced with the decision to sell my clubs to some poor, unsuspecting SOB, or do something markedly different, I asked myself, “Self, why do you never get a break?”

It was supposed to be a rhetorical question.

Unfortunately, my subconscious self is a crappy listener.

“Well, dummy,” he said, just a little too enthusiastically.  “Let’s see.  What would you tell one of your employees?  What would you tell one of your former consulting clients?  What would you tell your nephew?  What would you tell your Godsons, your current clients, or anyone else who would listen?”

At this point, I developed a very negative self-sub-conscious opinion of my subconscious self.

“Well, Mister Smarty Pants, what I would say is, “Think positively!  You make your own breaks based on how well you’ve prepared.  Good breaks tend to happen where preparation meets opportunity.  The team that practices best on Tuesday, wins more often on Saturday.  Good luck is manufactured, not discovered…”

And, I’d be right.

So, a couple months ago, as I headed out to the golf course, I decided to do something markedly different.

I’d think positive thoughts.  I’d say positive things to myself.  I’d crank up some good blues music and (weird as it may sound) I’d enjoy my favorite hobby.  “You can do this,” I say, in my best Waterboy voice.  “Just slow down and hit the shot, you’ve done it dozens of times before.”  I started (even weirder, I know) practicing again.  That only-Phil Mickelson-can-possibly-hit-this-shot shot?  I’d leave that one to Philly Mick and I’d simply get the ball back in play.

I’m still not very good, by my old standards, but my handicap is down three shots, and I’m looking forward to the next round.  And the one after that.

“OK, Cheesebucket,” you’re thinking, “what the holy, heavenly heck does this have to do with business?”

Well, think positively!  You make your own breaks based on how well you’ve prepared.  Good breaks tend to happen where preparation meets opportunity.  The team that practices best on Tuesday, wins more often on Saturday.  Good luck is manufactured, not discovered.”

Our son, The Middle of The Three Who Will Not Be Tamed, got a t-shirt from Mrs. H a while back — about the time that he began to be a way-above-average basketball player.  “I’m sorry,” the shirt reads, “I practiced harder than you did.”

And when we do, it will make a difference.