Dear Harvey,
It’s Stay Whole Tuesday and a good day for a final summary of my series: Staying in the Game (Fractals).
I began this series on the practice ground — a quiet bench, scuffed turf, the same wind that never quite settles. It feels right to finish it here as well. The surroundings haven’t changed much. Only the seeing has.
You told us to take dead aim. Back then, I thought that meant focus — hit the target, cut the noise. Now I believe it’s about something else entirely. Maybe “aim” is the act of caring, even when you don’t control the outcome. Perhaps that’s the true discipline — to keep showing up, clear-eyed, swing after swing.
- Fractal I: Open Spaces reminded me that renewal requires curiosity and space. I wrote about the vast landscapes that invite fresh beginnings — and the quieter, inner rooms that hold memories, loss, and whatever still awaits growth again.
- Fractal II: The Contest of Years exposed the silent struggle against time — against your body, expectations, and memories of what you once could do. Remaining in it requires adjusting your measure of progress, learning to consider a different kind of achievement as “good.”
- Fractal III: The Gift of Restless Striving is where I realised, I still care too much. But caring — even restlessly — is better than indifference. The striving is the heartbeat, the proof that the game still matters.
- Fractal IV: The Circles of Teaching rekindled my gratitude. I’m not a teacher, but I’ve been shaped by a few people like Nick Lloyd, who see one thing that unlocks the rest. And by you, Harvey, though we never met. The circle widens through every bit of wisdom passed down, tested, and kept.
The Loop
When I look back now, I see how these ideas loop. Curiosity leads to a contest. Contest breeds striving. Striving softens into gratitude. Gratitude rekindles curiosity. A fractal — always repeating, constantly revealing new detail the closer you lean in to look.
So what remains? Not mastery. Not even an improvement in the usual sense. Just a steadier patience. A more profound respect for the small things: the sound of a well-struck shot, the walk between holes, the company that keeps you grounded.
You once said the game reveals character. I think it also reveals continuity — how the same game that humbles you on Saturday can lift you on Sunday, and somehow that rhythm keeps you human.
So yes, Harvey — I’m still in the game.
gPage
“Millions of people were charmed by the homespun golf advice dispensed in Harvey Penick’s Little Red Book, a sports classic that became the best-selling sports book of all time. Yet, beyond the Texas golf courses where Penick happily toiled for the better part of eight decades, few people knew the self-made golf pro who coaxed the best out of countless greats — Tom Kite, Ben Crenshaw, Betsy Rawls, Mickey Wright — all champions who considered Penick their coach and lifelong friend.” – Kevin Robbins, author of Harvey Penick: The Life and Wisdom of the Man Who Wrote the Book on Golf.
