Most golf blogs are about pristine swing paths, perfectly manicured gear reviews, and tip sheets for lowering your score by two strokes.
This isn’t that.
This site was spawned during a round at the Towhee Club in Spring Hill—a brutal, (for me anyway) course designed by Arnold Palmer. The course was out of my league and designed with strategic water and with greens that show no mercy. I was out there, struggling, hitting putts I thought were sound only to watch them roll ten feet past the hole, followed by the inevitable, fearful three-putt. My playing partners were watching me unravel, and eventually, they stopped being polite. They looked me dead in the eye and said exactly what I needed to hear:
“You are playing like a scared little bitch.”
They were right. I bought the domain that same day.
This site exists because I got tired of lying to myself. I have over 200 rounds recorded in Arccos. I can ball-strike my way to look like a real player, but the second the pressure clicks on—when a par save actually matters or a birdie putt sits in front of me—the mental fragility takes over. I decelerate. I steer. I protect a score instead of attacking the course.
In plain English: Sometimes, I play like a scared little bitch.
My goal as I near retirement is to become a scratch golfer. The game should be fun, but I’ve realized that the only way to get to that level is to stop protecting my ego and start being fearless. This is the log of that transition—from fear to execution, and from “Bitch Moves” to “Boss Moves”.
