1ST HOLE

The first hole of any round is like your teenage years. You start out with endless possibilities and enthusiasm, just happy to be out here, fresh, strong, actively preparing, absorbing the experience and excitedly looking forward to what is ahead. Not worried about missteps as there is plenty of time left to make up for mistakes and bad decisions.

Dave was born in Ballarat, and his childhood was a typical country Australian upbringing with decent, hardworking parents. His dad was a skilled and respected tradesman. His mum was the touchstone for family standards, maintaining the household while also working long hours in small businesses. A couple of younger sisters who looked up to their big brother completed the immediate family unit, although as was the norm for that era, Dave enjoyed a large extended family in nearby towns with whom he spent the kind of time that none of us seem to have anymore. Victorians, especially in country areas, are sports mad, with Australian Rules football and, to a lesser extent, cricket being the main devotions. I use that word deliberately because as someone from another state, I am continually amazed and impressed how the dedication of Victorians to their AFL teams has an unashamedly religion-styled faithfulness and commitment.

For a small regional area, Ballarat boasts a staggering number of successful well-known people, which is quite disproportionate to city and metropolitan ratios. For example, opera singers David Hobson and Jacqueline Dark, and musician David Hirschfelder were born there. Four prime ministers (Deakin, Curtin, Scullin, and Menzies), businessmen (including Reginald Ansett), multiple premiers and politicians, military leaders, academics, scientists, and religious leaders originate from the area. I suspect, though, the sports stars from Ballarat stir more passion in the average person. Tony Lockett, Drew Petrie, and Mick Malthouse are a few AFL examples. Steve Moneghetti (marathon running), Ray Borner (basketball), Peter Blackburn (badminton), and Russell Mark (trap shooting) are all Olympians with a Ballarat connection. This is a small sample; there are so many more people who have a history with Ballarat and have gone on to great things.

This is also true for many country towns in Australia, and I have heard many theories about why this happens, including to have anymore. Victorians, especially in country areas, are sports mad, with Australian Rules football and, to a lesser extent, cricket being the main devotions. I use that word deliberately because as someone from another state, I am continually amazed and impressed how the dedication of Victorians to their AFL teams has an unashamedly religion-styled faithfulness and commitment.

For a small regional area, Ballarat boasts a staggering number of successful well-known people, which is quite disproportionate to city and metropolitan ratios. For example, opera singers David Hobson and Jacqueline Dark, and musician David Hirschfelder were born there. Four prime ministers (Deakin, Curtin, Scullin, and Menzies), businessmen (including Reginald Ansett), multiple premiers and politicians, military leaders, academics, scientists, and religious leaders originate from the area. I suspect, though, the sports stars from Ballarat stir more passion in the average person. Tony Lockett, Drew Petrie, and Mick Malthouse are a few AFL examples. Steve Moneghetti (marathon running), Ray Borner (basketball), Peter Blackburn (badminton), and Russell Mark (trap shooting) are all Olympians with a Ballarat connection. This is a small sample; there are so many more people who have a history with Ballarat and have gone on to great things.

This is also true for many country towns in Australia, and I have heard many theories about why this happens, including fewer distractions for young people, the powerful desire to move out of the small towns, the hardworking, physical culture, respect for traditions and family, and community support. I am sure all of these have an impact, but I like to think that the main driver is the higher emphasis placed on values and ethics, and how these are instilled in young people in country towns. And the long list of successful people from Ballarat suggests there is an extremely high emphasis on all those elements in this town.

It is especially important and evident in sports. I am sure Dave was schooled in the merit of these attributes, and this helped develop his character. It is interesting that he made his way into the world of golf. In my view, golf is one of the last sports where integrity and sportsmanship are hallmarks of the game, and respect for the history and legacy of the sport is preserved and promoted. In what other sport does a player call a penalty on himself or herself? In some sports, it is even encouraged, rewarded, and celebrated when a player deliberately flaunts the rules to win a penalty or gain an advantage. I am sure it is even practised! Some players have made a lucrative career out of this tactic. But in golf, if you cheat or even bend the rules, it can end your career. The truth and honesty of that have always resonated deeply with me.

An example of an early lesson in values for Dave came when he used to go to work with his dad on school holidays. His father was a plasterer back in the days when they still made the ornate cornices themselves at home, and the work on-site was predominantly done by hand. So skills honed over a long apprenticeship were crucial; there were no shortcuts. On one hot, dusty Friday afternoon, long after the other tradies had left; Dave and his dad were finishing a section behind a wall in the kitchen pantry that was to be later covered with timber cladding. Being a young man, eager to finish work and head out for the night with his friends, Dave was keen to get home to clean up. He couldn't understand why they had to be so particular with finishing off this section as it was going to be covered up later. He put this to his father rather impatiently.

"No one is going to know or even care, Dad."

There was an empty silence for what seemed like minutes to Dave but was most likely only ten or twenty seconds. Finally, his father spoke quietly in a tone that accentuated the power of each word. "That isn't exactly true, son. I will know, and so will you. And I don't want to feel that I cheated the owner every time I drive past this house, even though he will never know. I most certainly care about that. How about you?"

There is real momentum in a question like that at the end of a sentence, throwing it to the other person to decide the next action. It could produce self-analysis, some soul=searching, deep thought about the future implications and applications to other situations, and even change an attitude. Or maybe it would simply confirm the decision that he doesn't care, and that's the end of it. But it puts the responsibility on the recipient of the question. Invariably, when Dave is caddying, he will use this technique. He may say,

"If it were me playing the shot, I would do this. What do you want to do?" Or, "The risk is too high to take on that shot. There are other options, but it's your call. Are you willing to take that risk?" Another variation is used when he seeks conviction from the player and a commitment to the shot choice: "Is that the shot you see in your head? Are you happy with that club choice?" He rarely gives straight directions unless it is required. It's as plain as that: describe the situation, offer alternatives, ask for a decision, and demand a commitment, clearly reminding the player where the responsibility lies. If there's no decision, Dave starts the process over again. It is straightforward but so powerful.

I often wonder if he learned that consciously from his own experiences with his dad and other authority figures, or if he unknowingly absorbed the lessons in life he was afforded. At what point did he begin to think about the usefulness of those exchanges, or did he even think about it at all? Much like golfers wandering down the first fairway, everything is in front of them. They don't always consciously record their early experiences, observations, and learnings to use later in the round. Basics like the weather, wind direction and ground condition might be taken in. As with a young person starting out in life, any observation a golfer makes on the first hole is predominantly external and objective. There is very little subjective self-awareness about the individual's state of mind, feelings, or effect on those around the person.

At what point in the round does their thinking change? And why does it change? How many times are the learnings from past rounds forgotten by the time the golfer steps up to the first tee again? Interestingly, changes always occur within the round. Why is that? The most prominent changes are almost always related to mood, attitudes, and temper rather than have anything to do with technique or skill. Curiously, the things we ignore at the beginning can overwhelm us later in the round and take on much more importance, just as they do in life.

Irrespective of whether Dave consciously or unconsciously learned these valuable lessons, he has applied them ever since in both his professional and personal interactions. He cleverly encourages you to find the answers to these and a thousand other questions so adroitly that you are rarely aware of it. It took me years to realise he was doing it in many areas of my life, not just on the golf course.

As we all did, Dave navigated his childhood and teenage years surrounded by an array of influences that helped shape his character and style, developing an emotional intelligence that was to be such a formidable feature of his caddying success. I have been reliably told by people close to him during his younger years that while fairly quiet, he exhibited a strength and maturity far beyond his age. He projected a considered thoughtfulness that often surprised people, catching them off guard when he vocalised his views. He had the aura of an "old soul" that now and then, you notice in someone. How does such a young man instinctively understand situations better than most and then remarkably have sensible suggestions and solutions to offer? It happened so frequently that everyone around him used to say, "That's just our Davey." I still notice that knowing sparkle behind his eyes. It's as if he has experienced most situations before, and I find myself relying on that insight more than I care to admit. Strangely, it is comforting.

To illustrate my point about how attitudes can change from the first couple of holes to later in the round, I'd like to share a personal experience. Davey was caddying for me in the club championships. We started out just as I outlined earlier. All the players were positive, enthusiastic, and relatively upbeat. On the first hole, one of my opponents hit his ball into a questionable lie in the hazard behind a tree. He was fairly relaxed and was even happy to take advice from the rest of us on where he could take a drop. Dave was his usual pragmatic self and offered the best interpretation of the rule. His suggestion was accepted, and the player duly took the drop and managed a respectable bogey.

Later in the round on the 15th hole, the same player, who had been experiencing one of those rounds we all dread, found himself in a similar position, this time only worse. Instead of doing exactly as he did on the 1st hole, taking a drop and limiting the damage, he decided out of desperation to try a miracle shot and of course it didn't come off, and he hit it deeper in the hazard. Well, this player's head came right off; he went berserk, attacking the offending tree with his club and the sound of the ferocious impacts only equalled by the furious cursing and yelling. Dave summed up the situation in an instant and said,

"Looks like Steve is doing a little course renovation work. The greens committee have wanted to chop that tree down for ages. He's always been very helpful like that."

Well, we all broke up; even Steve, who after having a good laugh at his loss of control, recovered to make a double bogey and then managed to par the last three holes. A classic example of how our state of mind at separate times can produce a starkly different reaction in precisely the same situation. It also demonstrates super caddy in action!

Wouldn't it be useful if we could maintain the positive expectations and enthusiasm we have at the start of a round throughout the whole day? Being in that state allows us to be less afraid of mistakes and apply clear-headed thinking to decisions, and even if something goes wrong, we don't stress too hard early in the round. Just like Steve, later in the round, we can easily end up in a very different mental state. Either you are frustrated and angry because you have played poorly, or you have had a series of unlucky incidents. Both can cause you to give up and play recklessly and start hitting low percentage shots. If you are playing well, you begin to stress about preserving your round, and you start to protect your score and play conservatively to avoid mistakes, which is precisely the opposite of what is needed. You didn't get to a good position by playing cautiously. We've all done it, so in both these situations why do we change our strategy?

We have all heard it said that you play your best golf when you play like you don't care. But there is more to it than that. If you played without caring you would not focus or prepare properly for each shot; you wouldn't aim accurately; you would blaze away and be cavalier. That's not how you achieve your best performance. I believe what people mean when they say that, is they play without fear. By that, I mean playing without the fear of the outcome, the fear of ruining a good score, the fear of looking bad, or the fear of bad breaks. People often say that they were hitting it great on the practice range but once out on the course, it went pear-shaped and they started to hit shots that they never would hit on the range. What has changed? It's the same person with the same skill level, the same physiology on the day, and the same equipment. The only thing that has changed is the pressure of the situation and the change of your mental state.

I think it's also to do with time and motion. There is so much time in golf when you are not actually playing a shot. If the average golfer hits 85 shots in a round and the time it takes to hit each shot, not preparing for the shot but actually hitting the ball, is around 2 secs, then in a four and a half hour round you only spend 170 secs playing shots, less than 3 minutes. That means just 1.1% of your time on the course is actually spent physically playing golf. The rest of the time is free for mental meandering. On the practice range, you are continually hitting shots.

Then there is motion. In most other sports the ball and the opposing players are moving, and you respond to what they and the ball are doing. You develop your skills at practice and during a game you instinctively react to the movement of the ball and the other players. In golf, the ball is still. Your mental state affects how you play more than most other sports, and you have more time to think in between shots than any other sport, no wonder it is so hard. That is why in other sports the range between your best performances and your worst performances is much less than in golf. In this game, your worst golf can be atrocious and yet your best performances are right at the other end of the scale. Throw in the variables such as the endless variety of shots compared to other sports, and it only adds to the complexity. Remember every shot in golf has infinite lengths, elevations, and wind, turf, and sand conditions, whereas while most sports might have their own particular variables, they have a finite sized court or field. When you serve in tennis, it is the same length court and the same net height every single time. In cricket, the length of the pitch and the size of the stumps never change. In Baseball the diamond and the distance between bases have official dimensions; the distance the pitcher throws the ball is always consistent. Similarly, in Basketball, the size of the court and the zones don't change. The net and backboard are always the same height and size. You can practice a free throw, a pitch, a serve, or a ball in cricket reliably because you know the precise length it will be in a game. In a round of golf, you rarely hit two shots the same distance or height.