The Guinea Pig: the halfway stage

By Matt Cooper Last updated: 3rd February 2010

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.

Halfway through my attempt to play off single figures snow and ice fell across Britain making golf an impossibility for two months.

As it happens I injured my knee at the end of November so wouldn't have been able to play anyway.

But, like most golfers, by the end of January I was beginning to get desperate - I needed to hit some balls - and finally, last Friday, I got my chance.

The weather forecast was good, the course was empty, my knee felt fine(ish), what could be better?

Well, a few things could be better - much better.

I didn't need nine months of talking to experts, coaches and professionals to know that playing the first round for two months without any range time or any short game practice was not recommended. The only work I had done was some random putting around the house every time I made a cup of tea (which admittedly was quite often).

On the other hand, I always play good golf after a break. I even have a theory that would almost certainly would be mocked by almost every expert in the sport - one which states that a break allows my muscle memory to forget all the bad habits.

If the experts would shake their heads at the hopeless optimism of this idea, they would, at least, acknowledge that the very fact that I have a positive approach gives me a chance.

Contrast my attitude with that of my oldest golfing partner - he thinks it is impossible to play even competent golf without a month of hard practice.

That's all very well but he also knows that his job, lifestyle and family life are never going to permit him that luxury.

So he stands on the first tee telling himself, "I can't play well today, it's impossible, it won't happen." And, by and large, he's right: it doesn't happen.

With being positive in mind, on Thursday night I reviewed my first nine months on the Guinea Pig project.

Earlier in the evening I had watched The One Show presenter Christine Bleakley talking to the hypnotist Paul McKenna.

She is undertaking a challenge to water-ski across the channel for Sport Relief and McKenna got her to look at him and then said, "You worked hard in your first week, you improved really quickly, you learned a lot, you'll do the same in the second week, it will be harder, but you'll build on that success, you'll do the same in week three, building on your success again, and again in week four, learning, getting better, remembering how much you have improved."

I wasn't entirely convinced by this (part of me was recalling Tony Le Mesma, Alan Partridge's favourite stage hypnotist), but what did hit home was the value of reminding yourself what you have achieved, what you have improved and what you can be proud of.

So I set to work doing something similar for my golf: I would review my game, recall my improvements, be proud of my achievements and build confidence ahead of the first round of the year.

My swing:

Correct alignment

I have Pete Styles at PlayGolf in Manchester to thank for this one. When I had my swing assessed and videoed there in November it became horribly, embarrassingly obvious that my feet rarely point towards the target. "On the plus side," Pete told me, "your hands are good enough to compensate, but you're making things very complicated." As Pete further explained, aligning correctly is not exactly difficult: a little bit of care can make a big difference. Surely that was going to be easy to implement? No need to practice that. And I knew it would reap rewards.

An improved stance

Pete also pointed out that my stance is too narrow. I should have addressed this far earlier because everyone I play with mentions it sooner or later. My efforts in November to widen my stance weren't too successful - I found it difficult to complete any sort of turn and was losing balance. I also need to open my feet a little, to aid my turn and help open out in the follow through. Perhaps widening my stance after a break would be easier to do? (Using my theory of forgetful muscle memory.)

My short game:

Putting

Two or three weeks in August last year transformed my putting and for the following two months the results were spectacular - the best putting of my life. Oddly things went sour in the middle of one round. At Elie in October I was putting so well on the front nine that I was laughing out loud at my ability to hole putts. "This is ridiculous," I thought to myself, "it can't go on." Never have seven words had such a catastrophic effect. Suddenly I couldn't buy a putt and on only one occasion did I putt well again all year. So I reminded myself of what prompted that improvement in August. Firstly, by utilising the expert knowledge of Dr Paul Hurrion (Padraig Harrington's putting coach) I found a method that I genuinely trusted (because it was backed up by his years of biomechanical research). And secondly, I used a custom-fitted Elmer Putter which provided added confidence. I needed to forget the end-of-year worries and trust in those two factors.

Have faith in my short game

I played more golf with strangers last year than in any other year of my golfing life and I learned two things: 1. I hit the ball pitiful distances from the tee; and 2. around the green I attempt and execute shots players with single figure handicaps don't. Sometimes, however, I don't believe in that short game. So I reminded myself of a positive memory. At Woburn last July I played with three strangers who all played off between 8 and 10. We all finished in a similar spot near the 18th green - needing to chip over a bunker to get close to the pin. All three of my partners took the bunker out of play; they hit "safe" shots to the heart of the green and putted from 20 feet. I flipped one over the bunker. Only as it floated over, and I heard the gasp from one of my partners, did I appreciate what I had done: what they considered a frightening shot hadn't given me a second thought. I need to be braver and more confident with this part of my game. I need to make more of it: to trust it.

Course management:

Damage control

At the end of the year I reviewed a book by Dave Pelz called 'Damage Control'. I wasn't too taken by the pseudo-science involved or by some of the needlessly complex explanations of his ideas, but the central theory struck me as very sound. He believes, having studied tens of thousands of scorecards, that most handicap golfers play to their handicap for most of the round (indeed often below it) only to blow up on three or four disaster holes. Avoiding the disasters and resisting the big scores equals damage control. In essence it is an old theory: when you get into trouble, take your medicine and stay calm; don't look for a glory shot. With a rusty game I probably needed to keep this in mind more than ever.

The mental game:

I've always enjoyed the mental side of the game and last year I started the Golfmindfactor.com course with Dr Karl Morris. There is no doubt that as a result I am now mentally stronger than ever before. Sometimes Morris merely confirmed or refined notions of my own; other times I learned new and exciting concepts entirely. Key lessons include:

The process

This has been my greatest leap. I'm not so zoned that I am oblivious to my score, but I am so much better at concentrating on each shot as it comes and not looking too far ahead. If it was easy to achieve, however, we'd all be doing it. Oddly the greatest example of me staying in the present came during the Kazakhstan Pro-am and it was all because I was so horribly hungover. I could literally think of nothing between shots but standing up. And when I got to the ball my thought processes were beautifully simple (again, because anything too complex was impossible). Coincidence that I played one of the best ball-striking rounds of my life? I'm not sure it was. On the other hand, playing hungover is not a long-term answer.

The role of memory

The very fact that I have positive memories of playing golf with no practice is an example of using the memory correctly - I have wired my brain to interpret the past in an affirmative fashion. The alternative is what my friend does. But if I use memory well in this case, I have become aware that I am just like every other golfer at other times, sabotaging my game with bad memories that fuel fear and failure.

Taking on a role

Morris talks about "stepping" into the shoes of other (better) golfers to take your shots. The great Johnny Miller claimed his final pro title by doing just that (by "stepping" into the shoes of his son to hole a putt he thought he was incapable of holing himself). In addition to this, I have become increasingly aware in the last year that I am an impressionable golfer. I play good golf if I have just watched footage of professionals whose swings I like. A perfect example is a round I played right after Nick Dougherty won the BMW International in June. For the front nine I kept reminding myself of Dougherty's silky rhythm and felt myself copy him. I didn't hit my 5-wood better all year. Trouble is, I stopped copying him. Err, why?

Conclusions:

I started the project as a 15-handicapper and I'm currently better than that, but not into single figures. For a stretch of six weeks at the end of last summer I played the best golf of my life, rattling off rounds of between 7 and 12 over par. I was confident in all parts of my game and when I played with the golf manager at the Duke's course in St Andrew's he was under the impression I was a 10-handicapper. I then played one terrible round at Hillside and lost confidence. That remains my problem - I'm capable of some shocking golf.

But when I reviewed my year that poor golf at Hillside seemed less important than the good golf that went before it. Why was I placing emphasis on the few bad rounds and not recalling the many good rounds? Another classic example of self-sabotage.

So I stood on the first tee on Friday with as many positive memories and feelings I could muster. I was also just happy to be finally playing golf again. The vibes were good.

I aligned carefully, I found a wider stance easier to incorporate than I did before Christmas, I was confident with my putting, I trusted my scrambling skills, I stayed with the process (and ignored my score), I thought of good things, not bad ones and I remembered the silky swings I had watched on YouTube before I teed off.

And what happened? I shot nine-over! Either a sign of things to come, or it's downhill from here. Practice? Who needs it!

Matt Cooper