“The Daily Mystery of Golf”

Disc Golf is a Daily Challenge

Earlier this week, my backhand was perfect. I was throwing bullets on every shot. I had the power of the universe in my hand. I held Thor’s Hammer. I was invincible.

And then, yesterday, I couldn’t throw a decent backhand. It was frustrating, depressing…inexplicable.

I managed to work it out today, and get back on track. But it took some work.

I realized that the reason I was struggling yesterday was because I wasn’t planting my front foot solidly.

If anything, I keep coming around to the realization that a solid front foot plant is the bedrock essential of a good throw. But all too often, I don’t pay enough attention to it. And at some point, I get lax—and then my throwing falters.

I’ve even said this to friends at times—“You have to plant the front foot before you throw.” But it’s easier said than done. All too often I rush that part of the throw. And then I pull, or slice, or pop up.

I had a conversation once with a golf pro. We were talking about Jack Nicklaus’ amazing putting on the final day of the 1986 Masters. I mentioned that Nicklaus seemed to make every putt that day, even though he’d struggled with his putting on the previous three days of the tournament.

I said, “How does that happen? Why did he putt so well on that day?”

The golf pro paused for a moment. Then he said, “That’s the daily mystery of golf.”

That was sort of a “lightbulb moment” for me. Some days we’ve got it. Some days we don’t.

It’s hard for me to accept that sort of unpredictability. I want to be consistent. I want to throw well every time. I want each throw to be as good as I’m capable of. But it never works like that.

There’s a sort of chicken-or-egg question to all of this as well. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that the key to a good throw really does come down to solidly planting the front foot. If I know that, why can’t I execute it every time?

It could be that, on certain days, we’re tired—and thus we physically skimp on fully undertaking all the movements in a throw. That would make sense.

But some days, we feel great. And yet, we still rush our throws, or fail to execute consistently. I don’t know why that is; it’s damn frustrating.

Anyway, if it’s helpful, be mindful of a solid front foot plant.

Sometimes, I try to intentionally watch my foot—to make sure I’m stomping it down before I starting pulling my arm through. It sounds a bit contrived to do that, but it’s necessary. And it generally works.

Hopefully, this blog post is helpful to someone. Maybe this will serve as a reminder about a part of the throwing technique that we sometimes overlook.

Or, at least you’ll know that there’s someone else out there who is a frustrated perfectionist.

Hang in there.