I feel like I write some version of this post every year, but it’s always fascinating enough that I have to revisit it.
One of the biggest obstacles to improvement in golf isn’t your swing, your equipment, or your lack of practice time. It’s how honestly you evaluate your own game.
If your goal is to lower your handicap and become a better golfer, the first step is understanding where you actually stand. Not where you were five years ago. Not where you could be on your best day. Not where you think you are.
Where you are.
The round we played yesterday is a real world example.
Pierre
Meet Pierre. 23 years old, fed up with life and the way things are going, he decides to rob a liquor store. Kudos if you get the reference.
He actually was probably around 35, covered in tattoos, and has one of the more unusual swings I’ve seen. He makes a pronounced turn away from the ball—possibly because one arm is slightly shorter than the other—and then comes through surprisingly well. The finish suggests he’s either taken lessons or spent some serious time watching YouTube instruction videos.
He was playing the white tees while the rest of us were on the blues, which I fully respect. He said he lived in Scotland, and had gotten into golf about five years ago, and was upset he didn’t play while he was there.
Then came the story.
He claimed he shot +9 on the front nine at Bethpage Black, which he described as the best golf of his life.
Maybe.
But then I watched him play.
The first sign of a vanity handicap is the “gimme.” On a par 3, Pierre hit the green, left his birdie putt about six feet short, and walked away with a par without putting again.
Then there was the mulligan.
Ball in the weeds? No problem. Reload.
The scorecard starts looking pretty good when penalties disappear and six-footers become automatic.
My guess? Pierre probably shoots in the 90s, thinks he’s a 15 handicap, and is actually closer to a 25.
Andy
Andy is the opposite.
In his twenties, he was nearly a scratch golfer. Now he’s in his thirties with two kids and maybe a dozen rounds a year.
The talent is still there. You can see it in individual shots. But golf doesn’t care about potential—it rewards consistency.
Chad introduces Andy as a scratch golfer, he immediately corrects them:
“I was.”
That’s an important distinction.
Andy doesn’t obsess over his scores because he knows what it would take to get back to the level he once played at. It would require hours of practice, range sessions, short-game work, and a level of commitment that simply doesn’t fit his life right now.
He’s realistic.
He wants to enjoy his time on the course and understands that his current game isn’t his former game.
My guess is his real handicap is somewhere between a 5 and a 8. I’d be curious what number he’d give himself.
Chad
Chad’s 18Birdies handicap sits at 13.2.
Honestly, I have no idea what his true number is because 18Birdies handles bad holes differently than GHIN, and Chad has a tendency to make some very large numbers.
What I do know is this:
He plays golf by the rules.
Every putt gets holed.
Every penalty stroke counts.
Every lost ball hurts.
That approach creates some ugly scorecards, but it also creates an honest one.
If Chad putted more consistently and eliminated a few topped drives, I think he’d have the potential to be a high single-digit handicap.
Would I bet on it?
Probably not.
Like most of us, he doesn’t practice enough.
Me
My 18Birdies handicap recently dropped to 11.4 after an 85 yesterday that had an 8 on a par 3.
Under GHIN, it would probably be even lower because some of my blow-up holes would be capped at net double bogey.
If I were entering a tournament tomorrow, I don’t think many people would be excited to see an 11.4 next to my name.
Yesterday is a good example.
I was only a few shots away from shooting 37 on the front nine. Two missed five-foot putts and one unfortunate bounce into a bunker cost me three strokes.
The encouraging part is that my ball-striking, specifically my driving, has improved dramatically this year. More importantly, my putting is starting to come around. There’s a huge difference between hoping you make an eight-footer and expecting to make it.
I still have bad holes. Everyone does.
But if my current ball-striking continues and the putter stays warm, I think I can play down to an 8 handicap this season.
The Point
The golfers who improve are usually the ones who are honest with themselves.
The vanity handicap golfer thinks he’s already better than he is.
The former scratch golfer understands exactly where he stands.
The rules golfer accepts every ugly number on the card.
And the golfer trying to improve focuses on what his game actually is—not what it could be on a perfect day.
That’s why I’ve never understood why people cheat their handicaps.
The only person you’re really fooling is yourself.
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