What Playing in Qualifiers Teaches Me About Golf ... And Myself.
Golf is hard. Tournament golf is harder.
Issue No. 42, August 13, 2025
Earlier this week I played in a qualifier for the New Jersey Public Links Championship. I also played in a qualifier for the NJ Mid-Am and for the NJ Four Ball. I’ve been playing in qualifiers for a few years now, and I haven’t qualified for a tournament yet.
Welcome back to the From the Drop Zone newsletter, where we’re reflecting on the difficulty, courageous nature, and hopefulness of tournament golf.
I know there are a lot of newsletters out there, and I’m thankful this one found its way into your inbox. Let’s hang out, pour a cocktail, and talk some golf.
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Fore, please…
Registration is open for The Bucket, our final Events From the Drop Zone of 2025. We’re visiting Galloping Hill on September 6, one of the New Jersey’s most difficult public tee times, so it’s a perfect time to join us. Like all of our events, The Bucket features friendly competition and good company. Sign up today to get your spot.
For me, advancing in these qualifiers is a tall ask. There are a lot of great players and, frankly, I’m not one of them. I have flashes of brilliance sometimes, and in an 18-hole qualifier, you never know what can happen.
Ultimately, qualifiers are about the number on the scorecard after 18 holes. Shoot low enough to finish at the top of the leaderboard and you’re in to the championship. That’s why you pay your entry fee, play, and sign a card after four and half hours. To me, however, qualifiers are more than just the score, because every time I play in one, I learn something about golf, and a little about myself.
You have to be ready for anything. In a qualifier last year, I hit a perfect first drive down the middle of the fairway. I walk up to the ball to find it lying in the middle of a divot. This could have set the tone for the whole day. Instead, I hit a good wedge, made the 16-foot birdie putt, and walked off the hole with a birdie. A true Mongolian reversal right out of the gate. Golf is unpredictable. You can’t control the ball once it’s in the air, you can only react to what the golf gods and forces of the universe give you. Sometimes you need to battle adversity. And small victories can build on that momentum.
Disaster can strike at any time. In my most recent qualifier, an unlucky bounce left my ball under a bush. I couldn’t even see it as I tried to chip uphill toward the green. I advanced it halfway up, still away from the hole. What followed was a masterclass in compounding mistakes: rushed shot after poor shot. Still away after all of them. Deflating doesn’t begin to cover it.
But, golf is a game of perseverance. And one bad hole doesn’t have to ruin everything. You should never quit on a round. You never know what can happen. One bad hole does not a round make. And I did turn it around on the back nine.
After a going out in 43, through seven holes on the back nine, I was even par on that side and feeling like I almost belonged out there. No big mistakes, a couple of solid swings. I was playing like a golfer who maybe knew what he was doing. Small successes can build momentum and confidence. Sometimes you need to survive the lows before you can find the highs.
Scorecards tell the truth, but they don’t tell the story. Scorecards are ruthless. The number you shoot is the number you shoot. No judges, no style points, no explanation. Scorecards are stubbornly lacking of nuance.
But, if you’re like me, you recount the “what ifs” — the putt that lipped out, the extra club you should have hit, the bounce that cost you. The card has no space for the emotion, the fight, or the hope that carried you through the day.
In my qualifier this week, I had a 15-foot birdie putt on the last hole. Knowing I was going to miss the cut, it felt slightly ridiculous taking that putt seriously. It essentially didn’t matter. But I still went through reading it like I would any other putt, made a good stroke, and it went in. Of course it went in. Too little too late. But it did make the post round hazy IPA taste just a little better.
After some qualifying rounds, I walk off wondering why I even bother with qualifiers. Sometimes the number on that scorecard I have to sign attesting that “yes, that is my score” is a high number.
Golf is hard. Tournament golf is harder. And it takes courage to put yourself out there to compete. The scores are posted on the internet for all to see.
And if I haven’t qualified in all these tries, why do I still compete in qualifiers?
I play for the flashes of competence, the moments of brilliance, the hope that maybe next time it all comes together.
My qualifying season is over for this year, but next year you can be sure that I’ll be there, peg in the ground, chasing that feeling again.
Because golf is a wonderful, spiritual game. And no matter how many times it beats me up, I’ll always come back for more.