My Personal Season Review - Volatility

Whilst the golfing season isn't technically over, mine essentially is. I have no more competitions booked in but aside from that it's just club medals and casual rounds with friends, which I'm not particularly fussed about. It feels like the right time to take stock of the year. My 2025 season ended in October and, if I'm honest, it finished in a pretty miserable place. After showing flashes of good golf earlier in the year, my game completely fell apart in August and I spent months trying to rediscover something that resembled form. Winter practice gradually gave me hope again and by March I genuinely felt optimistic about the season ahead. Unfortunately, that optimism never really translated into consistent golf. From the outside, parts of the year may not look disastrous. My Handicap Index started the season at roughly 10.5 and currently sits at 8.6. That's the lowest it has ever been, although it also climbed into the 12–13 range at one stage. On paper, that looks like progress. The handicap, however, isn't really an indicator of how the season has felt. The defining feature of the year has been volatility.

There have been occasional rounds where everything came together. I shot two personal bests, produced the best handicap differential of my life and had a couple of other rounds where I genuinely played proper golf. But across roughly 60–70 rounds this year, I can honestly identify only six or seven that I'd call genuinely good, perhaps a handful that were average, and the overwhelming majority that were well below the standard I expect of myself. That's the contradiction. My handicap has been carried by a handful of exceptional rounds, while the vast majority of my golf has ranged from average at best to completely unrecognisable.

The problem isn't simply scoring. It's the lack of a reliable, functional level of ball-striking and clubface control. For most of the year I've struggled to control both strike and face. The misses have varied from thin, heel and toe strikes to tops, blocks and, in particular, that horrible low, left missile that seems to appear whenever I least need it and of course the dreaded 'shanks'. Every now and then I'd stumble across a feel or a swing thought that suddenly made everything click. The strike returned, confidence came flooding back and the scores followed. Then, just as quickly, it disappeared again. The old problems returned, usually accompanied by a few new ones, and I found myself searching all over again. I'm sure plenty of golfers reading this have experienced exactly the same cycle.

There have been countless theories and plenty of advice along the way. Early extension. Posture loss. Body rotation. Sequencing. The relationship between the arms and torso. Physical limitations. Grip changes. Setup changes. Lessons. Practice. You name it. Some of those things may prove to be correct, some may not. But the playing problem has remained exactly the same throughout: I simply haven't been able to strike the ball or control the clubface consistently enough. That has made scoring wildly unpredictable, but more importantly it has slowly ground me down mentally. I reached the point where I genuinely started asking myself whether I still wanted to do this. Golf simply isn't as enjoyable when every round feels like a search for something you've already lost.

Competitively, there were still a few positives. I reached the semi-final of our society Match Play. I had a poor day in the semi-final and lost comfortably, but reaching the last four was still a respectable result. Ironically, the first round was probably my second-best round of the season. I played to around three over gross and genuinely felt as though I'd have beaten almost anyone that day. The Society majors, however, were hugely disappointing. I finished in the bottom quarter of the field in all three events (roughly 45th out of 60 on average). These competitions are effectively my own "majors", so those results hurt. Club competitions were much the same. There were NRs, poor medal performances and far too many finishes in the lower half of the leaderboard. I missed qualifying for the Club Championship by a single shot, but if I'm honest, there was never any sustained form to justify feeling particularly unlucky.

Then there was St Andrews. Completely out of nowhere, I shot five over par and produced the best handicap differential of my life. For a few hours, I genuinely believed I'd won the competition. Unfortunately, I was later disqualified because of an administrative mistake on my scorecard. The round still counted for handicap purposes, but the competition result disappeared along with any prize. Looking back, that probably sums up the season perfectly. Even the biggest high ended in frustration. It has been a disappointing season, but not a complete failure.

I suspect I always had to reach this point before I was willing to step away for a while. Every previous slump has been followed by another attempt to fix it immediately. Another lesson. Another practice session. Another swing thought. This time feels different. Perhaps the hardest part is that I know good golf is still in there somewhere. The handful of good rounds proved that. If I shot 95 every single week with absolutely no signs of improvement, it would almost be easier to accept. Instead, every so often I produce a round that reminds me exactly what I'm capable of, only for it to disappear again almost immediately. That inconsistency has probably been more frustrating than simply playing badly. Isolated rounds where everything clicks are no longer enough. What is obviously missing is a reliable baseline: the ability to turn up, strike the ball reasonably well and play recognisable golf without relying on the right swing thought appearing at exactly the right moment.

Golf remains my biggest hobby, of course outside actual life priorities. I love the competition, travelling to different courses, seeing new places and spending time with good people. But if I'm completely honest, the greatest enjoyment still comes from hitting good golf shots and putting together good scores. When I'm unable to do either with any sort of consistency, the rest of the experience becomes much harder to appreciate.

For now, I need some distance from the cycle of playing badly, analysing it, practising, finding a temporary solution and then watching it disappear again. So, for the first time in a long time, the clubs are going away. I'm going to shift my focus towards my health and fitness, something I've neglected for far too long. I need to become healthier, stronger and mentally fresher, and perhaps that change of focus is exactly what I need right now.

I'm not finished with golf. I'm sure I'll be back. Hopefully I'll return with the desire fully restored and in a much better place physically and mentally to enjoy the game again. Maybe this break changes nothing. Maybe it changes everything. Either way, continuing exactly as I have been simply isn't the answer anymore, it has ground me down to a halt.

Aaaand... phew. I needed to get that off my chest.