By Rahil Gangjee
If you’ve ever been part of a pro-am or even just tagged along for a Saturday morning fourball, you know this truth: the gap between professional golf and amateur golf is not measured in yards — it’s measured in logic.
The pros are grinding on TrackMan numbers, launch angles and wedge gapping. The amateurs? They’re mostly trying to remember where they last kept their glove. Yet, put the two together and you have one of the most entertaining spectacles in golf — part sport, part comedy show, and entirely unforgettable.
I didn’t tee it up at the pro-am in the recent DP World India Championship, but I’ve played enough of them to know that every group comes with the same ingredients: one guy who swears he used to be a single-digit handicapper, one who’s borrowed every club in his bag, one who thinks “draw” means an art competition, and one who will constantly say, “I haven’t played in a long time.”
That last line, by the way, is the national anthem of the 18-handicapper.
“I haven’t played in a long time” – the classic disclaimer
This is the go-to line before every first tee shot. It’s the golfer’s version of “no warm-up, yaar.” It serves as a built-in excuse for any chaos that follows.
But here’s the magic — the moment they stripe one down the middle, you’ll see a transformation worthy of a reality show reveal. Suddenly, they stand taller, twirl the club like Rory, and casually say, “Guess the muscle memory’s still there.”
If the next shot finds the trees, don’t worry — it’s because they “overswung trying to get back into tournament mode.”
Tournament focus Vs. weekend chaos
A pro’s pre-round routine is almost surgical — yardages, wind reads, tempo, hydration.
An amateur’s pre-round routine is usually a frantic search for tees, followed by a quick check if the clubhouse serves idlis before 9 a.m.
We warm up by stretching our shoulders; they warm up by telling stories.
I once overheard an amateur telling his partner on the first tee, “Bro, I shot 82 last week at KGA.”
His friend replied, “Front nine or total?”
By the fourth hole, both were still discussing that mythical 82 while their balls explored opposite fairways.
Conversations that derail your swing thoughts
In a tournament, my inner monologue sounds like this: “Wind off the left, 152 yards, smooth eight iron.”
In a pro-am, it sounds like: “Rahil, is Tiger really that strong in person?”
“Do you think LIV players use the same balls?”
“Bro, you must’ve met Neeraj Chopra, right?”
It’s impossible to visualise a shot when your playing partner is live-streaming your pre-shot routine to his WhatsApp group titled ‘Golf Addicts Forever’.
Once, a partner asked if I could shout “FORE!” in slow motion for his reel. I said, “Buddy, in my world, if I’m yelling FORE, we’re not doing retakes.”
Golf meets boardroom
Many of the amateurs you meet in pro-ams are top executives. They can negotiate mergers worth hundreds of crores but struggle to merge clubface with golf ball.
It’s fascinating to watch their mental processes. One gentleman once told me, “I visualise every deal before I make it. I’ll apply the same to this chip.”
He closed his eyes for five seconds, visualised deeply — then chunked it two feet.
To his credit, he smiled and said, “Well, the idea was solid.”
Golf, my friends, is the greatest equaliser. It humbles the powerful, confuses the confident, and occasionally rewards the clueless.
The post-miss diagnosis
Here’s another beauty — after every mis-hit, the amateur instantly becomes a biomechanical analyst.
“Oh, my hips didn’t clear.”
“Got a bit quick from the top.”
Or my favourite: “The grass moved.”
They may have topped it, chunked it, or hit a majestic 60-degree slice, but there’s always a technical reason — never operator error.
If a miracle shot happens though, they’ll say, “See, I told you my natural swing is coming back.”
Natural swing? Sir, even gravity gave up trying to predict that one.
When pros play psychologists
A big part of pro-am golf is emotional counselling. You spend half the round reminding your partners that “it’s okay, everyone misses” and the other half assuring them that their swing really looks good on video (it doesn’t).
You also learn new forms of optimism. After slicing three consecutive drives into the next postal code, an amateur once told me, “The good thing is, at least my miss is consistent.”
I said, “Yes, and the trees are now familiar with your ball.”
The rulebook of chaos
You’d think the rules of golf are universal. Not quite.
In a pro-am, you encounter a parallel version — the amateur amendments.
- Mulligan? Always allowed on the first hole. Sometimes the second too.
- Lost ball? “Nah, it’s in play somewhere there — I saw a bounce.”
- Gimme range? Anywhere within 10 feet, especially if it’s for par.
- Scorekeeping? Flexible. “Let’s just say we halved the hole.”
By the 18th, no one really knows the score, but everyone agrees they “played quite well.”
The sound of silence (almost)
Professional golf is known for its quiet, focused atmosphere. In contrast, a pro-am has a soundtrack — laughter, clinking bottles, and someone explaining how they almost turned pro “if not for engineering college.”
Once, mid-backswing, I heard an amateur shout, “YESSSS!” — not for my shot, but because his stock price went up.
I nearly shanked my 9-iron in solidarity!
The selfies and the celebration
No pro-am is complete without 47 photos and one slow-motion video of everyone pretending to read a putt. There’s always that one player who insists on recreating Tiger’s fist pump after holing out for 7.
At the 19th hole, all differences in skill vanish. Over beer (or something stronger), the stories flow, and everyone suddenly becomes a strategist: “Bro, if I had just made that putt on 12, I’d have been under par.”
Sure. And if I’d just grown another six inches, I’d have been a basketball player.
What we pros actually learn
Here’s the funny part — for all our jokes, playing with amateurs is refreshing. Their joy is pure. Their frustration is brief. And their enthusiasm is contagious.
They remind us that golf isn’t about stats, swing planes, or launch angles. It’s about moments. That one perfect strike that makes them grin all the way to the next tee box. That single par that gets replayed at the bar like a major win.
It’s a reminder for us pros, too — that golf doesn’t always have to be serious. Sometimes, it’s okay to laugh at the bad bounce, pose for the silly photo, and enjoy the beautiful chaos that happens when weekend warriors meet tour players.
In the end
Whether you’re grinding for world ranking points or just trying to locate your tee, golf treats everyone equally — unfairly.
So the next time your partner announces, “I haven’t played in a long time,” just smile.
Because five minutes later, he’s either going to hit one 300 yards down the middle — or straight into the next fairway — and in both cases, he’ll proudly say, “See? Still got it.”
And that, my friends, is why pro-ams will always be my favourite kind of madness.
Rahil Gangjee is a professional golfer, sharing through this column what life on a golf course is like