When wrong works, but it's not right

In my search for the perfect swing — the one that might finally lead to my perfect game — I came across a phrase that stopped me cold. It summed up something I’ve felt for a long time but couldn’t quite name: sometimes the way we’re working feels right… but it’s still wrong.

In life, like golf, we wake up with good intentions. We take aim at projects, conversations, and responsibilities hoping they’ll go smoothly. Sometimes we take a few practice swings — a conversation here, a text there, or just handling things solo. And honestly, a lot of the time, that approach works. The job gets done.

But I’ve started asking myself a different question: Could this have gone better? Could it have been smoother?

I was inspired watching a video about the short game. Life is a lot like teeing off. Whether we’re getting into the car, planning the next day, or starting a new project, landing in the middle of the fairway at the perfect distance is ideal. But how often does that actually happen? For me — not very often.

The next shot, though — that’s the difference maker. It can be the heartbreaker, the deal-closer, or occasionally the shot of our lives. And that’s where the short game comes in. Practice may not make us perfect, but it can save strokes. It can prevent us from bleeding out into a catastrophic failure.

Here’s where the lesson took a hard right turn just before the hole.

We can, with all the best intentions, practice poor technique so much that it becomes our routine. In the video, the instructor showed a bad setup and poor hand placement — and demonstrated how it could still work sometimes. You might even end up in an okay position.

But “okay” isn’t the same as repeatable.

What if there’s a better path? A cleaner one? One that holds up under pressure?

That’s where I stopped and looked at my own life. Where am I getting by, but with unnecessary bumps? Where am I muscling outcomes instead of trusting fundamentals?

For me, the answer has been slowing down. Putting good people around me. Paying attention to how others treat me — and how I respond. And when indecision or friction shows up, I try to pause, take a breath, and ask God where the next shot should actually be played.

Because wrong can work. But right works longer.

And the older I get, the more I’m interested in what’s repeatable — not just what survives.