There are dates and moments in a golfer’s life that will forever be etched in time. I remember mine clearly: August 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 first built from the ground up), I was chatting after dinner with the course architect, David McLay Kiddwho played with us earlier in the day. That’s when the beloved Scot dropped the bomb on me.
“You’re a player,” he told me. “You have 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 came up. Just like that, all my thoughts stopped.
“Painfully slow,” he added, emphasizing his point.
It was a complete gut punch. It was also hard to believe. So much so, in fact, that I was sure I wasn’t slow.
I’d played with my fair share of slow players over the years—guys who swung more than Kevin Na or Brian Harman—but I knew my pre-hitting routine was tighter than that. Much tighter. I had provided this years ago.
I also knew that David liked to play fast. The sooner the better – that seemed to be his motto. So maybe, I thought, I’m not slow by average standards, but only in comparison to the pace he likes to keep.
“Well,” I began, “I’m methodical.”
“No,” came the reply. “You’re slow.”
But his explanation for why I slowly let go of all doubt.
A wind control; lasering the distance to the flag, a bunker face or the edges of the putting surface – all these things take time. So does selecting a club and evaluating 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 it a point to always be aware of what my playing partners were doing and where they were on the court. I never wanted to distract or disturb them during a swing. Apparently, I had taken those good intentions too far. By waiting until it was my shot to begin assessing conditions and confirming levels, I was subjecting the players in my group to a several-minute wait before even starting 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 yet, 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 September 18th, I had already played a round of golf with other visiting members of the media. And you can bet that during those 18 holes I focused on starting the analytical steps of my process. I was meant 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 subject of my pace of play came up in conversation. (Knowing David and his affinity for giving a nice rib, I was ready for it.)
“Who played with this boy today?” he asked the group, pointing at me with a wry smile. “And how slow did he play?”
“Slowly?” one of my playing partners said in response. “He’s not slow at all!”
The reaction was both validating and relieving. Anyone who plays golf knows that correcting most mistakes takes time. Ironically, however, when the error involves time, the fix can be quick. Of course, it helps to have a partner like David McLay Kidd, who isn’t shy about drawing attention to the issue. From there, all you need is the commitment to change some bad habits.
