In this episode, A funny thing happens when you stop searching for your golf ball—you start enjoying the game.
Welcome back to On the Fly.
Let’s be honest: at 69, most people are focused on staying upright and not tripping over the cat. Not me. Fueled by a lifetime of Zig Ziglar wisdom—especially A View From the Top—I’ve been chasing a goal that sits somewhere between ambitious and “mildly delusional”: By my 70th birthday, I want to shoot my age in golf.
And yes—before anyone calls the PGA Tour—this is happening on a par-3 executive course. This is The Amen Corner of Retirement, where the holes are short, the rounds are friendly, and the expectations are... negotiable. Still, a 70 is a 70.
The Quiet Progress
And lately, something interesting has happened.
The ball is starting to fly straight.
Not every time, of course—I’m not writing fiction here—but often enough that I’ve noticed a shift. I’m not spending my round wandering into the weeds, negotiating with bushes, or holding philosophical discussions with lost golf balls. I’m actually playing golf.
Ziglar called the body a temple. At my age, I’d say it’s a well-maintained, occasionally creaky structure with a solid maintenance plan. The warm-up is longer. The stretches are more intentional. I'm working with a spine that hasn’t been through fusion surgery, which means I have to be honest about my systems.
I’m not fighting my body—I’m working with it. No heroic swings. No, trying to recreate something from decades ago. Just a smoother rhythm, a little more patience, and a growing appreciation for what still works really well.
Turns out, when you stop forcing it... Things start to come together. I’ve found my equipoise.
In physics (and in life), equipoise is that perfect state of equilibrium. It’s the balance of opposing forces. In golf, it’s the moment where effort meets ease; where the tension of the goal is perfectly balanced by the relaxation of the game.
Zig used to say:
“Positive thinking won’t let you do anything, but it will let you do everything better than negative thinking will.”
That feels especially true right now. Positive thinking didn’t suddenly fix my swing. What it did was create the mental equipoise necessary to change how I approach the game. I’m more relaxed. Less mechanical. More aware. And that creates space for feel.
Of course, even with equipoise, the universe likes to keep you humble. You know the shot: You line up. You channel your inner Ziglar. Your swing feels like silk. You watch the ball take flight—a majestic, soaring arc against the blue Southern California sky. It’s the most beautiful shot you’ve hit in a decade.
And then you realize it has the trajectory of a SpaceX rocket, and it’s overshooting the 100-yard green by a country mile.
SPLASH!
A wandering generality would throw their club. But with equipoise, you appreciate the physics. I just watched a $4 ball perform a perfect high-dive. If you can’t find the humor in overshooting a hole with the grace of an Olympic athlete, you’re missing the point. You smile because the flight was spectacular.
The Benefit of Perspective
There was a time when golf felt like work. Now it feels like a benefit. The benefit of time. The benefit of perspective. The benefit of realizing that a well-struck 9-iron that lands somewhere near the green is, in fact, a perfectly acceptable life outcome.
The goal is still the same: Seventy. It’s out there. Waiting. Probably a little amused. But the number matters a little less now, and the experience matters a lot more. If I get there, it’ll be a great story. If I don’t, I’ve already got a better one: I’m hitting more good shots, I’m losing fewer golf balls, and I’m having more fun than I have in years.
That feels like a win. A big one.
I’m Patrick Ball. Stay curious, ask more questions. We’ll talk On the Fly.
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