The Provisional Ball Conundrum

The Swing

You take the club back quickly, transition even quicker, and bring it down like you’re delivering the final blow. You lift your head at least a full second early and deliver an over the top strike that starts left, dives further left, and takes a hard left bounce toward a white stake.

The Reaction

You shoot glances to the rest of your group, hoping for some reassurance that the ball is in play. They saw it come to rest. They were over there last round and it actually opens way up and you’ll have a clear shot at the green.

But you get nothing. A deafening silence fragmented only by the squawking of birds in the trees as if they’re heckling you.

The Contemplation

Now it’s decision time. To hit a provisional or not to hit a provisional?

On the one hand, it could be fine. You could be fine. Your ball could be teed up nicely in the Bermuda with a perfect gap in the trees to throw one in there tight. Sling a punch draw, twirl the club, and get your putter out of your bag before the ball comes to rest.

On the other, you could be out by an inch and then what? Are you going to go back to the tee? The group behind you is going to be there by then, and you can’t imagine a worse scenario than hitting 3 off the tee while the other group watches. Take a drop, delegitimizing your score for the day? You already can’t sleep at night, and that certainly wouldn’t help.

But hitting a provisional now is showing weakness. You’re certainly not going to let the group know that you think you may be out. Even if they all know you’re not and aren’t saying it.

The Decision

Time expires on the internal provisional clock and you decide you’re all in on that ball. At this moment, there is nothing more important in your life than finding that ball. Your entire identity and self worth is tied up in locating a small dimpled object on the right hand side of an imaginary line between two white stakes.

You slam down the gas and go forward with abandon, wind blowing through your hair and foot dangling within inches of a fractured left ankle. Some folks would have taken 30 more seconds to hit the provisional.

But not you.

You’re a martyr. A hero. A one man search party.

You’re going to find that ball.

Or delay every golfer behind you by at least 15 minutes.

Two Inches Short is a place where amateur golfers can unapologetically be themselves. It’s where we can all relate to the greatest game ever played at a level we can all understand.

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