The Ball Was Never the Problem
At one p.m. on the first tee at Prestige Golfshire, I felt ready. This was my second practice session; the Nandi Hills sat quietly beyond the fairway, and Srishti had just sent her drive close to 225 yards. She is my coach. She is also thirteen.
My turn came. Grip correct, stance correct, the right distance from the ball. I swung, and the ball rolled a few sorry yards along the grass and stopped. First hole, I told myself. The day would warm up. But my cheeks had warmed long before the day did, and I kept my eyes on the grass rather than Srishti's face.
On the second hole, the same thing happened. Srishti and Muniraj, our caddy, watched closely and adjusted me piece by piece: elbows, shoulders, and feet. The ball rolled again. Neither of them raised a voice. They reset me, hole after hole, and waited. By the fourth or fifth tee, my hands were squeezing the club as though it might escape, and the fairway seemed to grow longer every time I looked up. Between shots, I walked a little ahead of the others so no one could read my face. My chest felt tight, my breath came short, and each new tee began to feel less like a fresh chance and more like a test I was already failing.
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Somewhere between one hole and the next, three mistakes came clear, and none of them was about grip or stance. My eyes were leaving the ball before I struck it. My sternum was not turning with the swing. My mind was somewhere else entirely, already counting yards that hadn't happened yet.
That evening at home, I opened the videos Srishti had recorded. Clip after clip showed the same man making the same swing, head lifting early, shoulders stiff, as if bracing for bad news. My stomach sank a little further with every replay. Watching him, I understood something no coach or caddy could fix from the outside. All afternoon, I had listened to everyone on that course except myself.
Golf asks you to be quiet inside. Look at the ball. Let the body turn. Follow through, and leave the result to the grass. It sounds like philosophy, and perhaps it is, but I suspect I will carry it for many days to come, into places that have nothing to do with golf.
Thank you, Srishti, for your patience, for every video, and for telling me what I needed to hear. You are only thirteen, and already a better teacher than I was a student yesterday.
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