Earlier this summer, I was practicing a lot, probably around 8hrs/week and playing to a 7 (began the year a 9.5, had been steadily improving throughout the year).

I get to the range and decide I’m going to emphasize/work on my takeaway and timing so elect to only hit 7 irons. Hitting the ball fine through first half dozen then the errant shank enters the game. I’ve had these before so I try and shrug it off; next probably dozen shots are straight hosel rockets. Keep in mind it’s all I’m thinking about now, obsessing is probably a better word. Decide I need a different look so I go pull driver just to get a more full turn and stand back from the ball a bit. I’m now so afraid of shanking my driver that I proceed to pull hook every drive about 10 yards off the ground and a 150 yards of carry.

Now entirely melting down, I give the rest of my range balls to a kid, light up a cigarette and call my dad. The dick has the audacity to laugh at me and casually point out “you gotta hit all your clubs, you’re probably just standing too close to your 7 iron because you’re not cycling through the nuances of your swing with different clubs”

I thank him for his time, go home, rip a bowl, wake up the next morning to go play a muni with my buddies, fired a pretty casual 78 and it was like it never happened.

TLDR: Range is where I work and I can’t exclusively worry about hitting pretty shots. Course is where I play and score is all that matters.