Bill Elliott

So here we are in a new year, perhaps still a tad dishevelled following the self-inflicted rigours of a festive period that helped us to stick a defiant two fingers up at an unruly world too full of stuff that encourages despair. The problem with January is, well, almost everything. We’re too far away from autumn and nowhere near enough to spring, never mind summer, to grasp anything other than reality, and facing the current reality is rougher than usual.

Never mind, we’ll get through it and stumble into the vaguely reassuring light that is February while hoping that it is not, as Woody Allen once suggested, the light of an oncoming train. You remember trains, I hope.

For now, however, it is difficult to focus on golf, whether it is the pro game or our own slightly less impressive version. Some aficionados will scoff at this suggestion. For them, there is no time that is not an encouragement to get out there and thump a ball.

Fair enough, I doff my hat to them, but for those of us who find the prospect of playing a game in the wet and cold a challenge not worth contesting, there are better things to do at this time of year. One of these better things is thinking about golf and why you play, as well as how you play.

My wise old friend Henry Cotton believed this thinking thing to be important and insisted that not enough of us do it. “Once you have half an idea of how to swing a club, the next big step is being honest with yourself,” he told me over the second, perhaps third, brandy at his home on the Algarve a long time ago. “Do you want to improve or are you happy with where you are? Do you play to win or to have fun and a bit of exercise? Is the quality of your playing partners more important than the quality of the golf you’re playing? Most of all – and this applies to us all – are you honest with yourself?”

By this last remark, Henry said he meant that when we actually played, did we play only the shots that we knew we were quite good at, or did we believe that some miracle had happened and that we could take on the improbable carry or the bendy shot around a couple of trees.

Henry had a silky, elegant swing, but it was the way he thought about the game, the way he embraced strategy and personal awareness, that brought him three Open Championships. Of course, talent and a swaggering belief helped a bit too. But while these latter qualities are beyond the reach of the majority of us, who are rarely more baffled than on the odd occasion that we hit a genuinely good shot, Henry’s encouragement for us to think more about our golf remains a point well made. Which brings me back to January. Right now, compadres, is the month to face our own golfing reality. What sort of shot are we usually comfortable with, but what challenge do we tackle despite a tedious expectation of failure? Be honest with yourself about this and then try to figure out what the difference is. Maybe, with practice, the latter can be improved, if not conquered. Of course, you may seek the help of a club pro, but really, the answer often lies within yourself.

So give it a go. Think back to the best round you played last year. Really think about it and what you did, or didn’t do, on that happy day. Then think about the worst, what you did wrong, why it went wrong and so on. This self-analysis, if honest, is the cornerstone of improvement. Give it a go and if this period of studied reflection does indeed help when you get out on a course again then please let me know.

There are no guarantees in life, but at least this thoughtful trip inside yourself – feel free to add a glass of something to the journey – should add some positive anticipation whenever you approach the old jousting field again. If nothing else, it will definitely help you to get through January before limping into the slightly more benign hell that is February. And that, folks, is really the point of it. Enjoy.

“Most of us are rarely more baffled than when we hit a genuinely good shot”