By Rahil Gangjee
There is a very special time in a golfer’s calendar when handicaps don’t exist, slices are forgotten, and optimism flows like free beer at a clubhouse prize-giving.
It’s called January.
January is when golfers across the world wake up convinced that this is the year. The year they finally “fix the swing,” get “mentally stronger,” and—my personal favourite—“play smarter golf.” This is also the month when credit cards take a beating from coaches, launch monitors, fitness trainers, yoga instructors, and gadgets that promise five extra yards and a life-changing ball flight.
I’ve been around long enough to know this ritual well. I’ve made these resolutions. Broken them. Rewritten them. And then blamed my equipment.
New Year’s resolutions and golfers have a complicated relationship. We approach them with the same enthusiasm as a downhill par-5 and abandon them with the same speed as a bad bunker lie.
Resolution No. 1: I Will Practise More
This is the undisputed world champion of golf resolutions.
“I’ll practise three times a week.”
“I’ll spend more time on my short game.”
“I’ll actually work on my weaknesses.”
January rolls in and the range is packed. People are hitting balls with purpose. Alignment sticks are out. Someone is even working on putting instead of smashing drivers like they’re auditioning for a long-drive contest.
By February, reality steps in. Work gets busy. Traffic gets worse. The weather gets hotter. Suddenly “three times a week” becomes “weekends only,” which then becomes “I’ll play instead—it’s still golf, no?”
By March, practice is something you talk about, not something you do.
Let me let you in on a secret from the “old guy” corner: it’s not about practising more. It’s about practising better. Thirty focused minutes beats two hours of beating balls while discussing mutual fund returns with your playing partner.
But “I’ll practise smarter” doesn’t sound as heroic on January 1st.
Resolution No. 2: I Will Get Fit for Golf
This one usually follows a December full of weddings, holidays, and questionable food choices.
“I’m starting gym from Jan 2.”
“I need more core strength.”
“Flexibility is key.”
Absolutely true. Golf fitness matters. I’ve learnt that the hard way, over many years and a few injuries I’d rather not relive.
But here’s the pattern: January gym selfies. February mild soreness. March—back to “golf fitness means walking 18 holes, right?”
Fitness for golf doesn’t mean looking like a fitness model. It means being able to swing repeatedly without pain, fatigue, or the need for painkillers before the back nine. Consistency again beats intensity.
You don’t need a six-pack. You need a body that doesn’t revolt on the 15th hole.
Resolution No. 3: I Will Fix My Swing
Ah yes. The most dangerous resolution of them all.
January is when YouTube coaches get rich, slow-motion videos are analysed frame by frame, and everyone suddenly knows what “shallowing the club” means—without actually being able to do it.
Golfers convince themselves that one swing thought, one drill, one magical position will unlock scratch golf. What they forget is that the swing they’re trying to fix has been yours for 20 years. It has muscle memory, emotional attachment, and a very strong will to survive.
Don’t get me wrong—working on your swing is important. But chasing perfection is the fastest way to forget how to play golf. The swing is a means, not the destination.
Some of the best golf I’ve played has come when I stopped trying to look good and started trying to score.
Ugly swings win tournaments. Ask history.
Resolution No. 4: I Will Control My Temper
This one deserves a standing ovation—for ambition alone.
Every January, golfers promise:
“No more throwing clubs.”
“No more abusing myself.”
“I’ll stay calm.”
This resolution usually lasts exactly one double bogey.
Golf is a brutal mirror. It exposes impatience, ego, insecurity, and unrealistic expectations—often all in the same hole. Expecting to suddenly become Zen-like because the calendar changed is optimistic at best.
The real resolution should be: I’ll recover faster.
You’re allowed to be upset. You’re human. Just don’t let one bad shot become three bad holes. Emotional recovery is the most underrated skill in golf—and life.
Trust me, I’ve seen grown men argue with golf balls as if they’ll apologise and roll back into position.
They never do.
Resolution No. 5: I Will Play Smarter Golf
Now we’re talking.
This is the only resolution I wish more golfers actually stuck to.
Smarter golf doesn’t mean shorter golf. It means understanding your game. Knowing when to attack and when to accept par (or bogey) and move on. It means choosing clubs based on probability, not pride.
You don’t need to hit driver on every hole just because it’s legal. You don’t need to go for every flag just because you once pulled it off in 2014.
Golf rewards honesty. Brutal honesty.
My Personal Resolution (Every Year)
After decades in this game, my New Year resolution is always the same—and it has nothing to do with score.
I want to enjoy golf more.
Enjoy the walk. Enjoy the good shots. Laugh at the bad ones. Appreciate the fact that I still get to play this ridiculous, beautiful, infuriating game.
Scores come and go. Swings change. Bodies age. But the joy of a flushed iron, a holed putt, or a well-fought par—that’s timeless.
So this January, make your resolutions. Dream big. Book that lesson. Buy that gadget (we all will anyway).
Just remember: golf isn’t a problem to be solved. It’s an experience to be lived.
And if your resolutions fall apart by February?
Welcome to the club. We meet every weekend.
Before I sign off, wishing all of you a very Happy New Year. May 2026 bring straighter drives, shorter putts, longer patience, and a handicap that moves in only one direction—preferably down. And if it doesn’t, may your excuses improve dramatically. See you on the tee!