Thursday, June 30, 2011

Not a single violent backswing last Thursday and, what’s more, there were even four shots that felt great, though the denominator by which I’d divide those four is far too large to mention with a straight face. But rather than talk about golf tonight, I’d like to turn the spotlight on my skill acquisition framework instead, specifically those rare moments when everything comes together and really sings.

That’s because for every instance where I’m reminded of why I picked up a skill, there are an equal number of times when I question why I’m even bothering. Isn’t strategizing about ping-pong a waste of time? I dislike golf, so why even subject myself to it? I hate the taste of vodka, and yet I continue to simulate the enjoyment of drinking, even though a tall glass of lemonade would be infinitely more appealing.

Fair questions all, and on the face of it, the respective answers should be “yes,” “don’t,” and “stop.” But then there’s that one ping-pong game where your new aggressive moves make for better rallies, elevating the level of play for both you and your opponent. Or on a chilly spring morning, somewhere on the fifth, you swing your club effortlessly and believe, incredulously, that maybe you could chase that stupid little ball over miles of grass while deftly conducting business. And there you are, right in the thick of happy hour, all conversational pistons firing, Vodka Red Bull near empty, sights set on the next bar to hit.

I realized I’m not learning these things solely for myself. Certainly there is a sense of gratification, this notion of having delivered your promises unto yourself, when you become proficient at something. The real benefit, though, lies in how these skills enhance your relationships. While I’m still not sold on the idea of communities, the people within them are intriguing. Next up on the list? I’ve got to find two backup drinks.