By the Left

It’s often said that every golfer, regardless of ability, over 18 holes will make one stroke that is as good as any player on earth. So, too, with piping and drumming. Every piper or drummer at any level will perform at least one note, one doubling, one ratamacue, one whatever that is every bit as good as what Stuart Liddell or Steven McWhirter can deliver.

It is that phenomenon that keeps golfers, pipers and drummers coming back for more . . . what?

Self-satisfaction? Yes. Self-flagellation? Also yes.

The endless pursuit of the possible is the fundamental reason why piping and drumming and golf are tailor-made for each other and we’re matched to them. They attract those with a peculiar predilection for perfection, who recognize their potential, and keep beating on after it, a never-ending mug’s game.

The best players in each domain are the most consistent. While every golfer or piper/drummer is capable of, if just for a split second, being the best in the world, those who do it on the regular reach the higher peaks.

But here’s the thing. Regardless of whether you’re a weekend hacker, Callum Beaumont, Rory McIlroy, or Kerr McQuillan, I guarantee that no one is ever completely satisfied, because perfection is never possible.

Just as there is at least one thing you did perfectly, even the best and most consistent golfer, piper or drummer will dwell on at least one thing that was not perfect. Remarkably, both situations are equally compelling and, strangely, just as satisfying.

To succeed, we players (and by “players” I mean golfers, pipers, and drummers) must constantly look ahead. It’s a trick, a mental deception, a brain ruse that shakes off that fluffed chip or doubling to look forward, ever forward, to the next part or stroke that will be perfect, and the next, and the next after that. To look back mid-performance spells certain doom. You’ll be in the caboose on a freight train to failure, last stop: Despairville.

In any of these pursuits, the difference between excellent and horrible is measured in microseconds. A crossing noise is a minuscule overlap of holes; a slice is an open face of a few millimetres. If you’re not careful, both will drive you batty.

“Remind yourself that it’s music you’re making, not some impossibly flawless glittering prize. In golf, rather than weighing your mind with myriad ‘swing thoughts,’ simply enjoy the walk with friends or alone.”

Other tricks I realized too late: in piping and pipe bands, rather than worrying about mistakes and dwelling on a crazy checklist of things to deliver, remind yourself that it’s music you’re making, not some impossibly flawless glittering prize. In golf, rather than weighing your mind with myriad “swing thoughts,” simply enjoy the walk with friends or alone.

Not only will you play better, but you’ll have a much nicer time.

All of it is geared towards introverts and actors. Show me an accomplished piper, golfer, or drummer who’s not, at heart, an introvert, and I will show you an underachiever. It takes hours and hours of solitary confinement in practice prison to excel. One must be comfortable with a whole lot of alone time to improve and gain consistency.

Great actors are introverts who wear masks to become someone else on stage. Golfers must shed their inhibitions, stand on that tee in their goofy golf get-up, and muster the courage to swing that club while others watch critically.

Pipers and drummers don zany tartanalia to morph into their performing personas. They go from “Leave me alone” to “Look at me!” faster than a peacock can spread its fan of feathers. And just as quickly, the game or the games are over, and they return to the practice room or driving range to pursue more perfection alone.

But while these things are solitary conceits, they can also be team efforts. Ask a golfer, piper or drummer what’s more nerve-wracking, performing solo or in a band/team situation, and they will most likely choose the latter. Screwing up as a soloist only disappoints yourself, whereas blootering it in a band brings down the entire squad. No one wants to be the teammate who lost the bottle to lose the Ryder Cup, the Charity Scramble or the Podunk Highland Games for your buddies.

I’m sure many other futile pursuits are comparably endlessly addictive and satisfying, but golf and piping/drumming are the two that I’ve chosen, or, maybe more likely, have chosen me.

There’s plenty of time to ponder between strokes and notes, whether playing golf or piobaireachd. The mind wanders and wonders why we humans do ironic and ridiculous things.

It’s not a coincidence that the Scots, along with most things, invented golf, piping and pipe band drumming. They’re comparably compelling, equally frustrating, and alarmingly alluring. Like life itself, they keep us looking forward, ever forward, to that spotless round, that perfect performance.

And even if we one day have the game or games of our lives, we’ll keep practicing and performing in our solitary pursuit of perfection.