What's your handicap? Turns out, that's a loaded question
What happens when someone asks for your handicap and you genuinely have no idea?
There are plenty of things to be nervous about when starting a new job: meeting your co-workers, making a good first impression, remembering everyone's names. For me, it was also answering one simple question: What's your golf handicap?
Ahead of my first official day at Golf Digest as an associate editor, I was invited to play in the company's annual Seitz Cup. A chance to meet the team, play some golf and enjoy a beautiful day at Tamarack Country Club? Sign me up.
There was just one small problem.
Before the tournament, I was asked to submit my Handicap Index. A perfectly reasonable request for a golf outing, especially one played in a scramble format. Except I hadn't kept track of mine in years.
A little background: I grew up playing competitive golf. I was a decent player, never terrific, but I could hold my own. In high school, I regularly shot in the low-to-mid 80s and carried a Handicap Index somewhere around 13. I played on my high school team, considered going the Division III college golf route and ultimately decided against it.
College came around, and golf slowly took a back seat. I'd sneak in a round here and there, but between classes, internships and eventually work, my time on the course decreased. By the time the Seitz Cup rolled around, my clubs had spent the better part of six months collecting dust in storage.
So, what was my Handicap Index?
Your guess was as good as mine.
I figured 15 or 16 sounded reasonable since I hadn't played consistently in years, and assumed I wasn't the same golfer I was in high school. So I submitted my number, thinking nothing of it.
Boy, did I hear about that one.
The sandbagger jokes came quickly. Here I was, the new girl at Golf Digest, already being accused (jokingly, thankfully) of trying to steal a few extra strokes before even stepping onto the first tee.
Not exactly the first impression I had envisioned.
In my defense, I genuinely had no idea what my handicap was. And that got me thinking: What are you actually supposed to do when someone asks for your handicap and you haven't played regularly in years?
So, how do you actually establish a handicap?
For golfers in the United States, the answer starts with the USGA.
If you've never established an official Handicap Index, the process is relatively straightforward. You can register through the GHIN app and join an authorized golf club or sign up directly with your local Allied Golf Association. Membership costs vary depending on the association.
From there, you need to post scores totaling at least 54 holes. That can mean three 18-hole rounds, six nine-hole rounds or some combination of the two. Once you've posted enough eligible scores, you'll receive your initial Handicap Index.
And no, it isn't simply your average score minus par.
The World Handicap System accounts for the difficulty of the courses and tees you play. Once you've accumulated 20 scores, your index is generally calculated using the best eight Score Differentials from your most recent 20 rounds.
In other words, it's designed to reflect your demonstrated ability, not just the score you happen to shoot on a random Tuesday. Or, in my case, what you vaguely remember shooting in high school.
For someone returning to the game, there's also an important distinction between having an old index and starting from scratch. If you've maintained a GHIN record, you may be able to pick up where you left off.
If not, establishing a new Handicap Index is a good way to get an accurate picture of your current game.
And if you're playing in a tournament before you have an official Handicap Index? Be upfront with the organizers about your playing history and recent scores rather than presenting an educated guess as an official number.
Which, in hindsight, might have saved me a few sandbagger jokes.
Turns out, I still remember how to swing a golf club
As for the Seitz Cup itself? I had an absolute blast.
The scramble format was the perfect way to ease back into golf, especially after such a long layoff. My partner, Stephen Roach, was absolutely striping his drives, which certainly took some pressure off me.
We gave it a good run, but ultimately fell to my new boss, Sam Weinman, and his son Charlie, a terrific college golfer. I hit a few good drives, contributed some decent shots and had enough moments to remind myself that, somewhere beneath the rust, there's still a golfer in there.
It was a classic young-versus-old showdown, and while we lost our match, Team Young ultimately prevailed. Not exactly how I envisioned making my first impression on the boss, but I suppose there are worse ways to lose.
Was I the player I was in high school? Probably not. Did I hit a few shots that made me think I could be again? Absolutely.
But the best part of the day had little to do with how I played.
For the first time in a while, I was reminded why I fell in love with this game in the first place: the people, the camaraderie, the friendly competition and those occasional shots that make you forget all the bad ones.
Golf has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Somewhere along the way, between school, work and everything else, I stopped making time to actually play it.
The Seitz Cup was a pretty good reminder that I should change that.
So here's my plan: Get my GHIN back in order, start posting some scores and find out what my handicap actually is.
And to my new Golf Digest colleagues, I promise I'm not trying to sandbag anyone.
At least now I'll have the numbers to prove it.