Your Mental Game is Just as Important

Ragers. We’ve all seen them, maybe we are one of them, but the feeling you elicit from your peers when you rage out is the same feeling you experience when watching someone else rage out. It’s uncomfortable, sometimes silly, but always unnecessary.

If you’re someone who rages out on the course but also claims to dislike when players like Joel Freeman or Gannon Buhr slam their bags or throw fits to deal with their frustrations, then you would be a hypocrite.

It’s also silly. And I don’t mean to be condescending or dismissive. Recently, I thought I was going to legitimately win my first-ever tournament—a B-Tier at that! Heading into the last hole with a one-stroke lead, I blew it. I threw it OB, forcing a playoff. Then, in the playoff, I didn’t make the water carry and conceded.

Was I frustrated? Of course, even bordering on mad. But instead of sulking, kicking my bag, or anything else, I remembered one thing:

"Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provokes it." — Seneca

This isn’t telling us not to be angry. You can feel your feelings and experience them, but acting out is almost always more harmful than recognizing and analyzing what it is.

Was I justified in being frustrated with myself? Of course—I had a win in my grasp, and I threw it away. A couple of poor decisions, easily preventable, cost me a B-Tier win after one of my best performances ever at a course that historically eats my lunch. But I took it as a learning lesson. I have now experienced that loss, disappointment, and humbling moment of crumbling under pressure, knowing that next time I will be more prepared to stay cool, make better decisions... and disc up if I’m throwing a water carry for the win.

Let’s take a look at what happened and the hypothetical if I had reacted differently:

Reality: I lost, fair and square, but I was courteous and congratulated my opponent on their win. We were laughing, he was encouraging, and I conceded because I knew I had been bested. I now consider that guy a friend, and I look forward to the next time we compete.

Hypothetical: Despite my fair and square loss, frustration took over. I kicked my bag, cursed, and tried to make a throw from the drop zone to save par—all while feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on me. He stood just 20 feet from the basket, poised for birdie. I wasted time, and the outcome was clear: even if I miraculously made my throw, his birdie was all but guaranteed. The walk to the basket would be filled with awkward silence as we retrieved our discs. Once the anger and frustration subsided, I’d no doubt feel foolish and hope to avoid playing with him again—whether out of spite or sheer embarrassment.

We’re playing a game, and unless you’re on the Pro Tour (even then, if I’m honest) there isn’t anything serious enough to affect your image because you’re angry. And again, that’s not to say you’re not allowed to be angry:

"If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment." — Marcus Aurelius

You’re allowed to feel whatever you are feeling; it is inevitable. But the change, and the power, lies within. You’re upset with your judgments about the event, not the event itself. It really is that simple; experience what you need to, look at it objectively, find the good, and choose to feel that instead. Instead of lamenting the loss, congratulate the competition. You had fun (I hope) and that’s all that matters.

If you’re looking for something less serious, check out the Hanging Loose Podcast. We have fun sometimes. Also, sign up for alerts if you like this, leave a comment, share on social media… really whatever you can to help if you find value in this!