A quirk of competitions that we all love is the two’s pot. You could be having a shocker but, don’t worry, there’s one more par 3 left.
There’s one more shot at earning back your entry fee, plus a little bit more if you bank a two on a day when the rest of the field hasn’t.
No one would turn down a boost to their pro shop credit. I certainly didn’t when I came second in a chunky comp earlier this year. Hopefully, I can build my pot and treat myself in a few weeks.
But honestly, without sounding like an archetypal tour golfer, I don’t play in competitions for the money. I play in them to play as well as possible, and to beat my handicap.
I have a dialled-in, automatic tracker in my brain for where I stand during a round. I know how many shots I have left, what my gross score is, and what I need to do to shoot as low as possible.
I suspect many golfers are like this, but prize money vouchers never cross my mind in competition. If I’m agitated at playing badly, it isn’t because I haven’t got another £15 in my account – it is because I want to play better and raise myself to new levels.
If it is a board competition, it would obviously be an honour to have my name etched on the wall at my club. Maybe that is the only occasion where winning would cross my mind. That is something I have always cherished on the rare occasion it’s happened.
But even still, winning a competition has never, ever been a consideration for me. Honestly, I don’t think I have ever entered a competition to win it.
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I have one objective in competitions: To shoot the lowest score possible
Match play is different, as it has a finite outcome. You either win or lose, so in that format, my outlook is different.
On the whole, I see competitions as a sphere where I can play under pressure to cut my handicap, to come away from my post-round pint with the satisfaction of a good round.
I want to look back on that six-footer for par I nailed on the 15th, or that bunker shot I stuck by the pin when I was in trouble. Good, solid golf is what gets my juices flowing. If remuneration comes with it – happy days. If it doesn’t, my good round is there in my mind and on my handicap record.
Last autumn, I played in a competition for golf writers at Wallasey, on the Wirral. I played out of my skin, shooting 2-over-par, which translated to 42 points. I was delighted and extremely proud of the golf I played.
When I returned to the clubhouse, someone else had shot 43 points. I couldn’t have cared less. I was still absolutely buzzing from the golf I’d produced.
In the same writers’ group, we had the privilege of playing at Royal Liverpool the next day. After a rocky start, I finished with 37 points, and something like four blobs and six birdies. Once again, I was beaten by one shot by someone who played a little bit better.
I couldn’t possibly come away disappointed. The shots I hit and the scores I made will be with me forever. That is where my love of the game and satisfaction come from.
I’ve never been one to look at a leaderboard with envy. I have played competitive golf for about 15 years, and I’ve lost count of the wincing members in front of me in the line to the score computer, envious of the leading numbers, when they’d hoped their total wouldn’t be beaten.
If I’ve scored 38 stableford points, or I’ve shot a gross score better than my handicap suggests, I don’t even look at the rest of the scores on the screen.
Good golf solves everything, as they say.
There is nothing like getting in your car to go home and reliving shots in your mind. The voucher in my wallet might as well not be there.
Now have your say
What is your motivation for playing in competitions: golf club vouchers or just being able to say that you played well? Let us know in the comments and tell us on Facebook!
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