2026 – The Student Becomes the Teacher
My grandson has been playing golf for one year.
His teachers are YouTube and thousands of range balls.
Papa? Well... not so much. At least not while I'm watching. Maybe he files away something I say and uses it later when I'm out of sight. I don't know.
What I do know is that I'm watching him become a very good self-taught golfer.
I'm not handing over the reins yet.
I will.
Just not today.
His iron play has become something special. He's starting to realize that all those hours on the range don't just create blisters. One day, the work simply shows up. Golf shots start climbing into the sky and you don't want them to come down because they look so good.
Okay... I'm done bragging.
He still can't beat me every time. That day is coming, and I hope it comes because of his talent—not because of my age.
Something happened this week that made me smile.
Golf instructors always say to hit down on the ball. Strike the ball first, then the turf.
I've done that most of my golfing life, but not because someone taught me. It's simply how I learned to hit a golf ball. I even broke par before I ever understood what "hitting down" actually meant.
My grandson just figured it out.
Suddenly his irons became pure.
The ball starts on its line. The flight is high and solid. Every shot looks compressed. It's the kind of strike you usually watch on television.
Now he repeats it over and over again.
That's when I realized something.
He's no longer trying to hit down on the ball.
He just does.
Watching that made me wonder if I could still change something in my own swing.
Maybe I can.
Maybe I can't.
The truth is... I don't really care.
I have a front-row seat to watch someone discover a part of golf that I remember discovering myself.
Maybe this is the best he'll ever play.
Maybe college, work, or family will eventually pull him away from the game.
None of us knows.
But today, after only one year, something has changed.
The kid who used to ask all the questions is quietly becoming the teacher.
Whether he knows it or not.
Why GPS Loses
Fifty years ago golfers relied on Blue, White, and Red marker posts on both sides of every fairway:
Blue = 200 yards
White = 150 yards
Red = 100 yards
Those markers were simple, visible, and accurate. But the system had one fatal flaw: nobody knew whether those yardages were to the front or the center of the green.
Employees changed. Superintendents changed. Pros changed. Knowledge disappeared.
There was no signage in the pro shop. Nothing on the scorecard. Nothing on the tee box. So golfers guessed. Some guessed front. Some guessed middle. Nobody really knew.
You had to rely on experience and feel. Once you developed that feel, you knew the distances — and you became a better golfer because of it.
Enter GPS. Today we have GPS in every cart, GPS watches, GPS apps, GPS phones, and lasers. Only lasers give exact distance every time.
GPS? GPS is 3 to 10 yards off. Always has been. Always will be. That’s just physics and satellite geometry.
If you measure your stride — steps per 10 yards — you could walk off your yardage and be more accurate than the GPS in your cart. It would slow down play, sure. But the point stands: walking off yardage is more accurate than any GPS system in golf.
Golf entered the “modern age” and replaced a system that actually worked with one that feels modern but isn’t as accurate.
Those old blue posts pointing 200 yards to the center of the green were often more accurate than the satellite in space measuring your distance today.
We replaced truth with convenience. We replaced clarity with screens. We replaced feel with false confidence.
Golfers say, “GPS is way more accurate.” But it isn’t. The poles were.
Sixty years after I started playing golf, I still look for those poles — long gone now.
If they came back: pace of play would improve, yardages would be clearer, golfers would stop guessing, scores would drop by a shot or two, the game would be more fun, and 95% of golfers would finally have reliable center‑of‑green yardage again.
For the average golfer — the hacker, the weekend warrior, the 10‑handicap and above — those poles were enough to get you damn close. Close enough to hit more greens. Close enough to win a bet. Close enough to enjoy the game more.
Poles win. Almost every time.