The Golf Scene — Your Weekly Golf Fix

Welcome to The Golf Scene — Your Weekly Golf Fix.

If this is your first issue, welcome.

If you’ve been following along, thanks — I appreciate it.

This week we cover everything from whether you really have what it takes to buy a golf course, to what “The Mapping Years” actually means, to another public service announcement for those who may suffer from Acute Grip Tension.

And somewhere in there, we’ll try to help you hit a few better shots.

Let’s get into it.

In This Issue:

The Business of Golf: Part 4 — The Decision
How Did I Get Here?: The Mapping Years
Swing Insight: Acute Grip Tension — Do You Suffer?

So, You Want to Buy a Golf Course?

The Decision — Part 4

By now, if you’ve stayed with me through this series, congratulations.

You have survived revenue projections, staffing costs, weather risk, equipment expenses, irrigation systems, cart fleets, food and beverage, a questionable tuna sandwich, and the terrifying realization that grass is not cheap.

In other words, this was never really a dream about owning a golf course.

It was a spreadsheet seminar wearing golf shoes.

So here we are.

You’ve seen the dream.
You’ve seen the income.
You’ve seen the expenses.

Now comes the real question:

Should you actually buy a golf course?

The honest answer?

It depends.

If you’re doing it purely as a business, you’d better be sharp.

You’d better understand the numbers.
You’d better be prepared for thin margins, long hours, weather problems, staffing headaches, machinery repairs, and decisions that actually matter.

Because this isn’t passive income.

This is active, hands-on, solve-the-problem-before-your-coffee-gets-cold kind of work.

But…

If you love the game — and I mean really love it…

If you enjoy being around golfers, even the ones who insist they “usually shoot in the 80s,” which apparently includes everything from 88 to 108…

If you take pride in creating an experience for people…

Then it becomes something else.

It becomes a lifestyle.

You’re not just running a business.

You’re hosting thousands of rounds, conversations, memories, and moments.

You’re the reason someone had their best round of the year.

Or their worst, but let’s not focus on that.

And there is something pretty special about that.

But let’s also be clear.

You’re probably not playing as much golf as you thought.

In fact, you might be the only person on the property who never gets a tee time.

Because while everyone else is teeing it up, you’re dealing with:

Owning a golf course is not the dream most people imagine.

It’s harder.
It’s more complicated.
It’s more demanding.

But for the right person?

It might also be better.

Because when it works, you’re not just selling tee times.

You’re creating a place.

A place where people play, compete, laugh, complain, exaggerate, make memories, and occasionally hit one good enough to keep them coming back for another week.

So should you buy a golf course?

Maybe.

But only if you understand what you’re really buying.

You’re not buying unlimited golf.

You’re buying a business, a property, a staff, a customer base, a maintenance operation, a weather-dependent revenue stream, and a front-row seat to every strange thing golfers do when they think nobody is watching.

And if, after all of that, you still want to do it?

Then maybe you’re exactly the right kind of crazy.

And if nothing else…

You’ll definitely have the best parking spot on the property.

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The Mapping Years

I Had Already Said Yes

I’m standing on the first tee deck at 5:45 AM on a Monday morning.

The dew is still on the ground, but you can already tell it’s going to be one of those days.

Hot and humid.

The worst combination.

The kind of weather where you sweat immediately, but because of the humidity, the sweat has nowhere to go except straight into your clothes.

There are only a few people anywhere near me.

The starter.
A member of the grounds crew on a mower.
And four guys the starter refers to as “jack rabbits.”

These are the players who pride themselves on playing a round of golf in under two and a half hours. Maybe less. Which usually means they are so busy playing fast, they forget to actually enjoy the round.

But I digress.

While the four jack rabbits are waiting for the starter to give them the all-clear, I am walking around the perimeter of the tee deck wearing a backpack with a two-foot antenna sticking out of it.

On the end of the antenna is a white plastic ball, about the size of a five-pin bowling ball, if you know what that looks like.

Running out from the bottom of the backpack is an electrical cable connected to a PalmPilot in my hand.

So, naturally, everyone is looking at me like I am part of a fake moon-landing operation, minus the suit and helmet.

I continue walking around the edge of the tee deck until I arrive back where I started.

Done.

That means I have just mapped the size, shape, and location of that tee deck to within inches of reality.

The software designers will now know exactly where this tee deck sits on the surface of the planet. They’ll know the golf course, the hole, the tee, the shape, and the position.

One tee deck mapped.

Only another 250 to 750 items left to go over the next 18 holes.

Then I can finish this golf course, pack up my gear, and move on to the next one.

And that, more or less, was my life for six years.

I mapped golf courses for GPS.

From Newfoundland to British Columbia, and most places in between.

Over a thousand golf courses.

More than eighteen thousand golf holes.

And no, that was not the career plan.

Many years ago, I was scanning the PGA of Canada website, which is a great resource for its members, including job postings. One listing caught my attention.

Wanted: Someone to map golf courses for GPS.

At that point, I knew almost nothing about mapping golf courses. I also knew very little about what GPS was going to mean for golfers.

Naturally, I contacted the company.

In short order, I received a phone call. We talked about what the job involved, my technical skills, which were pretty good, and whether I was available to travel.

Apparently, I gave the right answers.

By the end of the call, they offered me the job.

But first, I had to fly to their head office in Jackson, Mississippi, for orientation, training, and to pick up my equipment.

They would arrange the flights.

I would leave in a few days.

And just like that, I was newly employed by a company I had never heard of, doing a job I knew nothing about, using equipment I had never seen, and travelling to golf courses across Canada in places I had never been.

Now that’s the type of decision-making I like.

Fast, efficient, and made without thinking too much.

But I digress.

I don’t remember whether I flew from Toronto to Atlanta first, or somewhere else on the way to Mississippi, because that part wasn’t especially memorable.

But I do remember the commuter flight into Jackson.

The plane was so small I couldn’t stand up inside. I had to crouch.

I’m not even sure there was a toilet. Maybe there was. But if the main cabin was that tight, I can only imagine what the bathroom looked like.

Maybe just a bucket?

If you have never been to Jackson Airport, at least as I remember it, let me paint the picture.

It was small.

We parked on the tarmac. They wheeled stairs up to the plane door. The bags were unloaded outside, and you grabbed your luggage right there before walking inside to meet your ride or head to the car park.

Not much was happening inside, other than maybe a coffee shop.

That was it.

And somewhere between that tiny plane, that small airport, and the realization that I was now officially a golf course mapper, I probably should have asked myself a very reasonable question:

How did I get here?

But of course, by then, it was too late.

I had already said yes.

Note: This will be a recurring series of stories about The Mapping Years. If you are at all curious about what I did, how I did it, where I travelled, and what I saw and experienced, then this is for you.

Most issues contain at least one thing intended to improve your golf swing.

Below is this is week’s version, which, was of interest to shoe repair people.

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Acute Grip Tension

Another Public Service Announcement

Every so often, a golf lesson begins in a perfectly normal way.

A new client takes out his 9-iron and starts making a few swings.

And I start watching.

At first, I am not trying to fix anything. I am just observing. I want to see how the golfer moves. I want to see the rhythm, the setup, the backswing, the transition, the finish, and all the little clues that tell me what is really going on.

As he was preparing to hit another shot, something shiny flashed in the sunlight.

Not a big flash.

Not a dramatic lighthouse signal warning ships away from the rocky coast kind of flash.

Just enough to make me think, “What was that?”

So I watched a little closer.

And there it was again.

Something near his hands was catching the sun.

That seemed odd.

Golf grips are many things, but reflective is not usually one of them.

So I moved a little closer and looked at the grip.

And that is when I saw it.

The rubber grip on his 9-iron had been rubbed clean away in one specific area, right down to the steel shaft underneath.

Not worn down.

Not slightly damaged.

Gone.

There was an actual hollowed-out section where the grip used to be.

Now, I have seen a lot of grips in my time.

Old grips.

Shiny grips.

Cracked grips.

Grips that looked like they were installed back when golfers were still debating whether the mashie niblick was going to catch on.

I have seen grips so old they may have been purchased with a sleeve of gutta-percha golf balls and a polite warning about the dangers of horseless carriages.

But I am not sure I had ever seen one quite like this.

This was not normal wear and tear.

This was not, “Maybe I should think about getting new grips next season.”

This was structural damage.

It reminded me of termites quietly eating through a support beam in a house. Everything looks fine from a distance, until one day somebody leans on the wall and accidentally ends up in the laundry room.

Or carpenter ants in a pool shed, working away in secret until all that remains is a small pile of dust, a few regrets, and the uncomfortable realization that something has been chewing on your property for quite some time.

That was this grip.

Somewhere along the way, his thumb had not merely rested on the club.

It had gone to work.

Slowly, quietly, swing after swing, it had been boring its way through the rubber until the steel shaft underneath was exposed and flashing in the sun like a distress signal.

So I asked the obvious question.

“Are you pushing really hard into the grip with your thumb?”

He said no.

Which was interesting.

Because the grip had a hole in it, the steel shaft was visible, and the club appeared to have been involved in some kind of long-term pressure campaign.

So I asked to see his thumb.

And there it was.

Not a little red mark.

Not a slight irritation.

Not even a blister.

A blister would have been the reasonable exit on the golf swing highway, but apparently he had missed that exit several miles back and was now carving his own trail down the I’m Doing It My Way Highway.

This was a callus that looked like shoe leather.

At that point, I am not saying the case was closed.

But the jury had definitely stopped taking notes.

What this revealed was a case of what I am now calling Acute Grip Tension.

This is when a golfer holds the club with so much pressure that the thumbs, hands, wrists, arms, shoulders, and eventually the entire golf swing begin to tighten up.

The grip may be where it starts, but it does not stay there.

So here is a simple little self-check.

I call it the 10-1-3 Grip-O-Meter Challenge.

Hold the club straight out in front of you at shoulder height with both arms extended, and position the club so it is completely vertical, at right angles to your arms.

Now close your eyes.

Squeeze the grip as hard as you can and hold for three seconds.

That is a 10.

You may notice your hands, wrists, forearms, shoulders, neck, and possibly your dental fillings all tighten up.

Now reduce your grip pressure all the way down to a 1, again for three seconds, but here is the important part:

Do not unseal your hands from the grip.

Your hands must stay fully connected to the club. No gaps. No re-gripping. No letting go and starting over.

Just reduce the pressure while your hands remain sealed in place.

At a 1, the grip should feel very light, but not so soft that you accidentally launch the club into someone’s windshield.

That would be frowned upon.

Now bring the pressure back up slightly to about a 3.

That is usually much closer to what most golfers need.

Secure, but not desperate.

Connected, but not strangled.

Golf is hard enough without gripping a 9-iron like it’s the neighbour who owes you fifty bucks and still hasn’t returned your power saw.

So here is your public service announcement:

Before you make your next swing, check your grip pressure.

Try the 10-1-3 Grip-O-Meter Challenge.

Then swing the club instead of wrestling it.

Because sometimes the biggest improvement in your golf swing does not come from changing everything.

Sometimes it starts with simply not trying to strangle the golf club.

And if your grip has a shiny window all the way down to the shaft, that may be a clue.

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Closing

If you've made it this far...

you may have a “shoe leather” callus on one of your fingers too!

This week we've learned three important things:

And please...

If you do feel buy a golf course, call me. We can discuss it at your next accountants meeting.

If you found this useful (or at least mildly entertaining), feel free to share it with:

And if you're looking to take your game a step further...

👉 I'd be happy to help — in person or online.

David Govan
PGA of Canada Professional

Golf Excellence Academy
Modern Golf Instruction

Creator of the 5C Golf Performance System
👉 GolfExcellence.ca

P.S. Next issue we'll ask if you speak Martian, or if it’s too hot to play, and we’ll also think about the lowly divot?

Beyond that, the editorial strategy remains remarkably similar to my golf game:

We have a general direction, but the exact landing area is still unknown.