If You Could Only Ever Play Golf Alone, Would You…

If You Could Only Ever Play Golf Alone, Would You Continue?

Barry Plummer playing golf alone, hitting a putt on an island green with the sea in the background, with an inset image tucked behind the flag of Barry Plummer walking solo with his golf bag and trolley on the golf course.

I have been addicted to golf for as long as I can remember, from watching Majors and top tour events on television to starting to play the game as a young adult, and I can’t really imagine my life without it.

I am aware that my affinity with golf is in no small part down to the connections I have built around it, forming new social bonds and creating shared memories through incredible experiences on the great courses I have had the pleasure of playing.

Interestingly, however, when I was asked to reflect on my golfing habits… I realised that I rarely play golf on my own.

This hasn’t necessarily been a conscious decision to avoid participating as a solo golfer, but it’s telling that my fondest times on the fairways always involve at least one other person.

As I allowed myself to travel down that rabbit hole a little further, I stumbled across a challenging conundrum… If I could only ever play golf alone, would I continue playing?

‘I crave the addictive turbulence that keeps us coming back for more’

I would happily go out and play golf in all weathers to chase the high of shooting low (Image credit: Tom Miles)

The absence of golf in my life would feel alien, creating a large void that would be hard to fill.

I love the constant grind to improve, the battle to outmanoeuvre the course and the thrill of chasing down your best scores.

Golf is good for my mental and physical health, so much so that I spend most of the week looking forward to teeing it up on a Saturday or Sunday.

Where else can you go from feeling the lowest of lows one minute to the highest of highs the next, with every action as important as the next in the pursuit of progress.

Every time you put in a scorecard you have the chance to move the needle, one way or the other.

I crave the addictive turbulence that keeps us coming back for more, and I can’t imagine a world where I don’t have that unscratchable itch to get out on the course and shoot my best ever score.

If you chip in from off the green and nobody saw it, would it feel as good? (Image credit: Tom Miles)

On the other hand, what’s the point of sport without competition?

I rarely find myself invested in exhibition or ‘friendly’ matches in team sports, and I’ve never been someone who tracks my personal bests ‘just for fun’, so how much enjoyment would I really get from a life of solo golf?

Having a playing partner provides accountability, despite the fact they probably don’t care how well I play on any given day.

Having someone else on the course with me keeps me focused, both through the determination not to embarrass myself but also by a sense of personal pride to put my best foot forward and perform.

I would be distraught to make my first hole-in-one without any witnesses, or to hole a monster 100ft putt without the generous congratulation of my buddies, as sharing in the success of others is part of the sport’s identity.

With that, the consolatory glance or metaphorical arm around the shoulder when things aren’t going well can help to quickly snap us out of our funk - motivating a stronger performance as we push towards the clubhouse.

Social interactions are essential, in my mind, to the enjoyment of golf - so I suppose I would reluctantly abandon the sport in search of the fulfilment provided by competition elsewhere, if I was ever served with this cruel ultimatum.