Mindset story: While one golfer gave it a try the other "could have done it"

There were once two men who played golf together every week. One was Cal, a talented young golfer in his late teens who had big dreams of going professional. The other was Bill, a man in his early forties who had been playing for years and consistently beat his younger opponent. Their matches were friendly but competitive, and over time, they developed a bond. One day, as they walked the course, Cal spoke with excitement. He had decided to try out for the professional tour the following week. It was a long shot, he admitted, but becoming a pro golfer was his dream, and he knew he had to at least give it a try. Bill’s response was short and dismissive. “I could have done that.” Cal turned to him with curiosity. “Then why didn’t you?” Bill shrugged. “I don’t know. I just never got around to it.” Cal didn’t think much of it at the time, too focused on his own aspirations. A couple of weeks later, the two met for another round. Cal’s shoulders were slightly slumped, and there was a trace of disappointment in his voice as he told Bill he had missed the cut. However, he had learned what he needed to improve, so he wasn’t discouraged. He promised himself he would train harder over the next year and try again. Bill still beat him that day, just as he always had.

A year passed, and Cal dedicated himself to improving his game. He studied his weaknesses, worked with coaches, and practiced relentlessly. As the next professional tryouts approached, he felt stronger and more prepared than ever. One day, as he and Bill walked between holes, he shared his plans. “I’m having another go next week,” he said. Bill snorted. “I could have done that.” This time, Cal, who had heard the phrase too many times, muttered under his breath, “Yeah, but you didn’t, did you?” Another couple of weeks passed, and once again, the two met on the golf course. This time, Cal’s disappointment was heavier. He had missed the cut again. Bill, sensing his frustration, asked, “Why don’t you just give up?” Cal shook his head. “Because it’s my dream, and I know that if I keep working at it, I can make it.” Bill chuckled, shaking his head. “I could have done that… could have kept working at it, but you know nothing is guaranteed.” Another year of dedication followed. Cal trained harder than ever before, refining every aspect of his game. He spent long hours at the range, practiced his putting under every condition, and pushed himself to his limits. He learned not just the mechanics of the game but also the mental strength it required. He felt a difference this time, he wasn’t just hoping to make the cut. He believed he could.

Then came the day of the tryout, and when he met Bill again afterward, his face was beaming with pride. “I made it! I made the cut! I’m a professional golfer now!” he announced, almost breathless with excitement. Bill stood still for a moment, watching the young man who had once struggled to beat him now living the dream he had let slip away. He forced a smile and tried to be happy for his friend, but the words that escaped his lips felt hollow. “I could have done that.” As he spoke, he felt an unfamiliar sting behind his eyes. A tear formed, though he quickly turned away to hide it. He finally realized the truth. He had spent years saying he could have done something but had never taken action. Now, it was too late. Cal left to chase his dream, and their weekly games became less frequent. Their lives had taken different paths. They played only once more, years later, and as they finished their game, Bill still shot the better score. But that day, for the first time, he didn’t say, “I could have done that.” Because now, he understood that saying it didn’t mean anything. Only doing it ever had.