There are dates and moments in a golfer’s life that will forever be etched in time. I remember mine clearly: Aug. 31, 2024. It was the day I learned I was a slow player.
As part of a small group of journalists attending media day at GrayBull, the Dormie Network’s seventh club (and the first built from the ground up), I was chatting after dinner with the course’s architect, David McLay Kidd, who played with us earlier in the day. That was when the affable Scotsman dropped the bomb on me.
“You’re a player,” he told me. “You’ve got a good game. But you’re slow.”
I was still working out in my head the best way to accept his compliment when that dreaded ‘S’ word made an appearance. Just like that, all of my thoughts came to a screeching halt.
“Painfully slow,” he added, emphasizing his point.
It was a total gut punch. It was also hard to believe. So much so, in fact, that I was all but certain I wasn’t slow.
I’d played with my fair share of slow players over the years — guys who waggled more than Kevin Na or Brian Harman — but I knew my pre-shot routine was tighter than that. A lot tighter. I had made certain of that years ago.
I also knew David liked to play fast. The faster the better — that seemed to be his motto. So maybe, I surmised, I’m not slow by average standards, but only in comparison to the pace that he likes to keep.
“Well,” I began, “I’m methodical.”
“No,” came the response. “You’re slow.”
But his explanation as to why I was slow cleared up any doubt.
A check of the wind; lasering the distance to the flag, a bunker face, or the edges of the putting surface — these things all take time. So, too, does selecting a club and assessing a lie. In fact, they all take more time than you realize. And, as I learned, I was guilty of waiting too long to do any of them.
Over the years, I had made a point to always be aware of what my playing partners were doing and where they were on the course. I never wanted to distract or disturb them during a swing. Evidently, I had taken those good intentions too far. By waiting until it was my shot to start assessing the conditions and confirming yardages, I was subjecting the players in my group to a several-minutes-long wait even before I started my pre-shot routine with a club in hand.
David was right, I was slow. Just the thought of it made me squirm; but, fortunately, I knew how to fix the problem. Better still, in less than a month I was scheduled to play golf with the architect again.
When David arrived at Tributary in Idaho on the evening of Sept. 18, I had already played one round of golf with other visiting members of the media. And you can bet that over the course of those 18 holes I was focused on getting a head start on the analytical steps of my process. I was intent to have a club in hand, ready to start my pre-shot routine as soon as it was my turn to hit.
Over cigars that evening, the topic of my pace of play came up in conversation. (Knowing David and his affinity for delivering a good-natured ribbing, I was ready for it.)
“Who played with this guy today?” he asked the group, pointing at me with a wry smile. “And how slow did he play?”
“Slow?” one of my playing partners uttered in response. “He’s not slow at all!”
The reaction was both validating and a relief. Anyone who plays golf knows that correcting most mistakes takes time. Yet, ironically, when the mistake involves time, the fix can be quick. Of course, it helps to have a playing partner like David McLay Kidd, who doesn’t shy away from calling attention to the matter. From there, all you need is the commitment to change a few bad habits.
