Lessons in Leadership from a Golf Caddy

This past week I had the opportunity to spend five glorious days with a few of my closest friends at what is without a doubt one of premier golf destinations in North America and quite possibly the world, Bandon Dunes. It is a dream experience for anyone who loves the game of golf. Six amazing courses, all set on the ocean in the remote southern coast of Oregon, is, as one of my friends referred to, the “Field of Dreams” for golfers.

Bandon does not have golf carts and one of the benefits is the opportunity to play with a caddy. What makes it even more enjoyable is that you get the same caddy for duration of your stay so that you and they develop a relationship. They learn your golf swing, your distances, and your tendencies as you navigate the golf courses.

My caddy, Christian, is about as low key as anyone I have met. He kept relatively quiet and stoic throughout each round. On each hole, he would help gauge the wind, adjust the distance respectively, give guidance on the optimal path (and where to avoid), and offered tips if he saw something go awry. The importance of knowing me, knowing my “normal”, was crucial to his success as a caddy and therefore to my success as a player. His guidance was personalized to me and only me. Club selection is personal based on how far I hit the ball and the ball flight I typically hit. Without knowing me, he would risk advising me based on someone else's game, not mine.

The importance of knowing me, knowing my “normal”, was crucial to his success as a caddy and therefore to my success as a player.

In a round of golf, it’s easy to experience highs and lows, sometimes even on the same hole! This is certainly the case with me as I would go from playing great to poor and then back again. In my business life, I tend to be pretty emotionally consistent. In my golf life, that’s not always the case. Something that struck me was Christian’s even temperament through it all. Granted he wasn’t emotionally invested in me, as we had just met, but as my emotions fluctuated, his did not. His consistent tone served as an emotional “anchor” for me to come back to. When I got low, I could come up to him. When I got high, I could come back down to him. When I hit a great shot or made a birdie, he’d say “nice” and give me a fist bump. When I hit a poor shot or made a bogey, he’d say “we’re good” and moved on to evaluate the next situation. He didn’t dwell on the bad or spend too much time celebrating the good.

His consistent tone served as an emotional “anchor” for me to come back to.

Coming into the final round of our friendly tournament, I was in a good place. I had played enough good golf during the week to get myself in a position to compete for the title. The round started off solid and after almost holing out from the second fairway I thought something might be in store for the day. I finished the front 9 and made the turn confident and ready to go. After back-to-back birdies on 10 and 11, I knew something was in the air and today was going to be special if I could keep hitting good shots, not get ahead of myself, and hold it all together. I noticed that my buddies had started to leave me alone as we walked up each fairway and left Christian and me to focus on the golf. A final birdie on 16 had my heart pounding.

Coming up to 18, I hit a great drive and needed one more good shot to get on the green and wrap up the round. One more shot. Whether it was nerves, a lapse in concentration, or just the golf gods keeping me humble, I hit it the only place you could not on that approach. Left. Straight into the gorse (basically a devil plant!). I was devastated. Angry at myself for making that swing in that situation.

For the next few minutes, I desperately searched up and down the hillside, praying for a miracle that my ball might have come out of the dense brush. Christian had watched it go into the gorse and knew exactly what needed to happen next. He told me to drop and move on, but I barked out to “keep looking”. I was holding out hope for something he already knew, the ball was lost. I needed to take my penalty and move on.

What happened next, I will never forget. Christian looked at me, and with a stern tone said “Jonathan, the ball is gone. I need you to take your drop, right here, and hit this shot with full focus. 45 yards.” In the moment, I was angry at him. I wanted to keep looking, to hold out hope. Christian needed me to accept the situation and turn my focus to what needed to be done. What happened has happened, there was no changing it. My attention needed to be on the next shot and nowhere else. There were a thousand thoughts running through my head and he could see that. He needed there to be only one thought.

“Jonathan, the ball is gone. I need you to take your drop, right here, and hit this shot with full focus. 45 yards.”

It was a brilliant example of leadership in a moment of stress to provide absolute clarity. To refocus me on the new task at hand. He knew I could not execute the next shot if I was still dwelling on the past one. He needed my mind clear and focused. He was right.

In the end, I was able to complete what was a career round for me and wound up winning the tournament. It was close and I’m confident that without Christian’s leadership in that moment, the last hole could have been worse and perhaps cost me both the career round and the title. It’s a memory I will not soon forget and one I will forever be grateful for.

In the end, it was a magical week with my closest friends. I’ll take away a lifetime of memories about the golf and the friendships. I hope to return to Bandon Dunes again and reconnect with my quiet, low-key caddy. He’ll likely never remember me or our group of guys, but I’ll never forget the quiet, understated lessons in leadership that he demonstrated this past week.

Lesson #1: Coaching must be personal. Start with gathering a baseline of someone’s performance to understand their normal. Only then, can you recognize when things start to drift and coach accordingly. Avoid the temptation to coach before first observing.

Lesson #2: Celebrate and encourage but don’t dwell on either. The excess of ego during the good, and the lack of ego during the bad, are of equal detriment.

Lesson #3: Clarity is key. Let there be no doubt what needs to be done and where focus needs to be.

?Thank you Christian.