From 18 to 30: A golfer’s return after public service

When I entered government service in 2016, I carried an 18 golf handicap and played comfortably from the blue tees. Golf was my weekly meditation, a steady rhythm I could rely on — decent drives, long irons that found the fairway, short irons that found the green, confident putts that occasionally dropped for par, and a short game that, while imperfect, was at least predictable and enjoyable.

The golf course was a familiar companion — I knew its slopes, its tricks, and its pace. My game was far from exceptional, but it was steady, respectable, and grounded in regular practice. I had time to visit the driving range after work on a regular basis.

Everything changed when I joined government in 2016. Public service demanded not only time, but full attention, energy, and presence. Weekends blurred into workdays, and golf, which once kept me balanced, slowly drifted into the background. I would sneak in the occasional round, but these were rushed, distracted, and often more social than competitive. My clubs began to feel unfamiliar in my hands, and muscle memory, so essential in golf, began to fade. Bad habits continue to affect my golf swing.

After eight years in government, which felt like 20 years, and with age catching up, my handicap had ballooned to 30. Worse, I had moved from the blue tees to the silver tees, a symbolic retreat as much as a practical one. Distances I used to cover with ease suddenly felt out of reach. Shots that once flew straight now curved unpredictably.

Sometimes, or most of the time, mishits have become the norm. My short game, once reliable, became tentative. Golf is a sport that exposes you; it tells you honestly where you are, physically and mentally. Unlike group sports, where you can rely on your teammates whenever you are having a bad day, you only have yourself to rely on in golf. And my scorecard reflected years of trading personal rhythm for public duty.

Yet there was humility and even gratitude in accepting that decline. It reminded me that golf, like life, is cyclical. You rise, plateau, stumble, rebuild. It also reminded me that service comes with trade-offs; something gives when you give yourself fully to the country. And if what I lost were strokes on the course, perhaps that was a small price to pay for the responsibilities I carried as undersecretary of the DTI and director general of IPOPHL.

Eleven months after my term as director general of IPOPHL ended, with more time to play again, my handicap improved — but only slightly, to 26 at the silver tee. At first, this felt almost comical. After years of holding a respectable 18, how could months of renewed effort yield such little progress?

But golf teaches us patience. Improvement is not linear. The body adjusts slowly after years of stress and aging. Timing takes time to relearn. Confidence requires rebuilding. And perhaps the journey back is meant to be gradual, allowing each improvement — one nice drive, a nicely hit wood or long iron, one well-judged pitch, one long putt that finally drops — to feel earned.

At 26 handicap, I am still far from the golfer I used to be. But I am once again a golfer in progress, with space to practice and rediscover the game I love. I want to believe that my handicap today reflects not decline, but a transition — out of public life and back into a more balanced one, where golf can once again become a companion rather than an occasional escape.

And this time, I am playing not to chase the past, but to enjoy the journey back.