The Sand Trap That Started It All

There I was — buried in a greenside bunker, ball sitting down in the sand like it owed rent.

My coach had told me exactly what to do. Open the face. Weight forward. Hit two inches behind it.

Accelerate through.

I remembered all four. Simultaneously. At volume. That's the ADHD — my brain doesn't do "recall one thing calmly." It does "recall seventeen things at once and rank none of them."

So I did the worst possible thing: I pulled out my phone. "How to hit a bunker shot." Three videos in, I had three different swings and one very annoyed foursome.

"Just blast it out!" "No no no, pick it clean." "Dude, just hit it." Thanks, Dave.

I skulled it over the green, into the next bunker. Classic.

Here's the thing: my brain wasn't broken for golf. Golf instruction was broken for brains. Everyone stands over the ball with nine thoughts — mine were just louder about it. So I built the thing that picks one.