The Guinea Pig: the role of memory

Last updated: 27th October 2009

Matt Cooper, golfer: a hacker playing off 15. Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to build the world's first bionic golfer. Matt Cooper will be that golfer. Better than he was before. Longer, straighter, holing more putts.

When is a reason an excuse?

That was a question I asked myself driving home from Liverpool this week after a Golf365 day out at Hillside GC in Southport.

After four weeks of solid improvement with my ball-striking, my confidence felt high; I genuinely felt that my game was as good as it has ever been.

Cue a really messy round of golf; one that bore no resemblance to the confident (and even easy) golf of the previous month.

Naturally, as I pushed the car south (almost literally as it happens because it kind of broke down halfway home; perhaps in sympathy with the driver), I looked for explanations.

Whichever way I looked at my efforts, I always returned to the same thoughts: that in the lead-up to the round I had done two things that had prepped me for failure.

Firstly I went to London for the weekend and played at Metrogolf, the indoor golf studio, with two friends.

I really enjoy playing on the simulators and did so again, but I was also aware that, as on previous occasions, my swing became shorter and tighter the longer the game went on.

I think there may be genuine explanations for this, the quick pace of play and drinking beer throughout the round being two rather obvious ones.

But another is that, although I really enjoy the simulated experience of playing a great course in perfect conditions, I am conscious that the dark lighting and the closed-in nature of the booths makes me feel a little claustrophobic - my stance becomes narrow, my swing becomes shorter and I rarely complete a full follow through.

I'm reminded of the way Ian Botham would avoid net practice because he felt constrained and restricted by the cage-like structure around him.

Is this reason or an excuse? I don't know, but the truth is that four times this year I have played indoor golf and for the fourth time I have had a good time yet emerged panicky about a swing that no longer felt like my own.

My second reason/excuse was my journey north, a stop-start drive of just under two hours, as I explained to one of my partners, Mark Kendall, just before we teed off.

"I'm a bit worried," I told him. "I'm tired after a weekend in London and then I had a long drive up here. Every time I've felt like that this year I've played like an idiot."

12 holes later Mark sidled up to me, reminded me of my earlier words and raised his eyebrows. "You need to break the idea that you can't play in these circumstances," he said. "You've talked yourself into it."

In fact, of course, I had talked myself into playing bad golf not once but twice!

So my first thought was to turn to Dr Karl Morris and his Golf Mind Factor - I needed help and, with perfect timing, my next lesson was 'The Role of Memory'.

Morris begins this lesson with a quote from Tiger Woods:

"The secret to the mental game is the ability to instantly recall past success and then let go of failure."

As Morris suggests, most people (or, just about everyone other than Tiger Woods) do the complete opposite: they forget success and hold on to failure like a baby clings on to a favourite teddy bear.

So it is clear that the use of our memories could be the most vital keys to our golfing future (or even our future life).

Our self-confidence and self-belief are a culmination of our memories and experiences of life, but, just as importantly, they are a culmination of our interpretation of those memories and experiences.

He explains that recent research in the field of neuroscience indicates that memories are exceptionally fragile - every time we recall them they are open to change.

This is a little reminiscent of what an expert in semantics would say - you cannot retell any story in the same way because every telling is a re-write of the past one so it must therefore change meaning as well as content.

Historians would make a similar point about accounts of past events: the brutal facts cannot change but the analysis of events and conclusions drawn will always be different.

Neuroscience agrees: if you were beaten by a friend or lost a tournament that brutal fact will never change, but - crucially - our interpretation of the meaning of that event CAN.

And I think that is where you can recall Tiger Woods' words and totally buy into this concept - I for one don't find it difficult to accept that he deals with defeat in a far more profound way than any of his opponents.

A neat example of this in action off the golf course would be to imagine a young boy putting his hand up in school assembly to answer a question and being laughed at by the whole school when he opens his mouth.

Years later, when required to speak in public for his employers, that memory will rear its ugly head - the unconscious mind causing fear and terror.

Interpreting a memory in a bad way is nothing less than self-sabotage.

If a golfer loses a tournament and then remembers it as "the worst thing that ever happened to me" the mind will protect that person from the experience - the unconscious mind will sabotage any effort the conscious mind makes to get in that position: you will have been saved from ever again facing the "worst thing that ever happened to me".

But research has shown that memories can be re-coded and shaped which offers huge scope for us to actively take charge of the business of remembering.

It is important to stress that this doesn't mean becoming mad enough to pretend you won a tournament you clearly didn't, but it does mean recalling past events without having them scar your present and future.

In my case the term "self-sabotage" leaps off the page when thinking back to the way I anticipated failure at Hillside.

That is not to say I should not learn some important lessons - a two hour drive is not ideal preparation for a round on a top quality golf course, nor is a tiring weekend in London with old friends.

But standing on the first tee recalling past examples of failure in these circumstances is also not going to help much.

Having briefed me on the role of memory, Morris is next going to present a series of tools and techniques that will allow me to take charge of the way the memory can work for me - rather than against me.