Why I Call Myself a Hacker
The term “hacker” has been considered a pejorative in golf for a long time. Similar to “duffer,” a hacker generally refers to a particularly poor golfer either in terms of skill and/or etiquette.
Identifying a hacker has become a heated debate among modern golfers as evinced by a thread that lasted three years on the popular golf forum GolfWRX posing the question: “What is your definition of a hacker?” Not only did the answers offer a variety of opinions about what makes a “good” golfer and a “bad” golfer, they further exposed the elitism that has hindered the growth of the game since its beginnings. For some, calling a fellow golfer a hacker is an easy way to separate themselves from someone who doesn’t score as low as they do, doesn’t have the money to play top-of-the-line equipment, or lacks the wealth and social status to be members of their country club.
Traditionally, you wouldn’t want someone to call you a hacker because it suggested you weren’t good enough or respectful enough of the game to be on a golf course with more skilled or refined golfers. But over the years, the term has been reappropriated by average golfers who have learned to embrace the fact that their love for the game far outweighs their ability to play it consistently well. I think there are a lot of us that resemble that remark. Not only has “hacker” become a term of endearment in some circles, it’s even worn as a badge of honor to defuse the mean-spiritedness behind its use.
To be clear, it’s the skill aspect – or lack thereof – that those of us self-identifying as hackers are connecting with, not the disregard for etiquette. The hackers that I identify with are some of the most courteous and respectful golfers you’ll ever meet. For those of us who have found a connection to this game through avenues other than athletic ability, our enjoyment of golf is derived from a deep reverence for its history, its rules, and its ability to make us better people. You won’t find most of us crashing golf carts, throwing clubs, or making drunken fools of ourselves on the course. You will, however, find most of us fixing our frequent divots, allowing faster golfers to play through, and honoring the rules of the game – even if that means a lot of math at the end of a round.
Golf as a Lesson in Humility
For many years, my only objective when playing golf was to score as low as possible. My enjoyment of the game was dependent on my scorecard, plain and simple. Sure, I enjoyed the fresh air and camaraderie, but the answer to my wife’s question, “How was golf?” always led with my score – that’s what determined whether I had a good time or not.
When my handicap plateaued at 17.3 for two seasons, my fantasy of becoming a scratch golfer met reality head on. Frustration and disappointment soon clouded every round. I realized that unless I could find the time and money to take regular lessons and play a lot more than I was able, I’d likely hit my ceiling as a weekend golfer. Game-improvement technology could only do so much for me; if I wanted to keep playing golf and actually enjoy it, I needed an attitude improvement.
Acknowledging my physical limitations in the game was a liberating experience. When I allowed the pursuit of par to become just one of many sources of enjoyment for me while playing golf, the undue weight I’d placed on my skill was lifted. Once I accepted who I really was on the golf course – not who I fantasized I could be – I stymied the insidious expectations that had previously shaped my approach to the game. Bad shots didn’t sting as much and good shots were more fully appreciated. I spent more time enjoying the walk than I did fretting over my scorecard. I began to open myself to everything that golf has to offer including its ability to cultivate patience, grace, humility, and respect. Consequently, I find all of the above to be characteristics of a hacker – it’s someone who plays golf because they love it, not because they’re good at it.
The Birth of The Hickory Hacker
Frustration and disappointment almost led me to quit the game of golf before I gave it a chance to show me everything it has to offer. And I know there are a lot of other hackers at the same crossroads where I found myself when I had to figure out how to reconnect with a game that I loved but couldn’t play as well as I wanted. Those are the golfers I’m trying to reach by calling myself The Hickory Hacker.
Playing hickory golf has been a natural progression for my growth as a golfer and self-recognition as a hacker. With its focus on history, DIY ethos, and appreciation for the more transcendental aspects of golf, hickory golf checks all of my personal boxes for fulfillment and engagement. The fickleness of the equipment also goes a long way in tempering any lingering expectations, too. In short, I’ve found hickory golf to be ideal for a hacker like me.
I’m hoping that by seeing another average-at-best golfer find a way to love the game in spite of their skill limitations that they’ll be inspired to give the game a second chance. Maybe they won’t become full-time hickory golfers like me, but I hope the experience will give them a fresh perspective on the game and their approach to it.
Have Fun and Enjoy the Walk
In the 50-plus year modern history of collecting and playing with hickory-shafted golf clubs, from the start of the Golf Collectors Society in 1970 (now Golf Heritage Society) to the inception of The Society of Hickory Golfers in 2000, hickory golfers have found common ground in an appreciation for “golf the way it was meant to be played.” I extend that idea beyond just playing golf on old courses with old equipment. For me, it also involves being reminded that golf was originally designed to be an enjoyable distraction from the stress and mundanity of life. In other words: if you’re not having fun playing it, you’re doing something wrong.
I’ve taken that notion to heart. One of my primary swing thoughts these days has nothing to do with mechanics: “Have a good time and don’t take yourself too seriously.” It’s kind of wordy, but it works – I’m consistently surprised at how that quick affirmation produces a decent swing. It’s also helped me deflect the negative effects of criticism, both from myself and others.
The very first comment I received on my first hickory golf course vlog on YouTube was this blunt remark: “Your outfit is as bad as your swing.” At first, I’ll admit the comment stung – no one likes being insulted. But then I remembered my swing thought and found some common ground with the commenter in my response: “I disagree – the outfit is better than the swing.” itself. It always does.
