Growing up, I wasn’t exactly what you might call an elite junior golfer. While I like to point to the fact that I didn’t start playing the game until I was 10 (and didn’t in any way take it seriously until my late teens), my meager fairway form likely had more to do with poor underlying fundamentals and an obsessive loop of dozens of swing thoughts playing during any pass at the ball. Not exactly the recipe for winning golf.

While the amount of golf I played throughout my 20s declined steadily, I did receive some quality tutelage and got out of my head during the swing itself (Play Box, for you Vision54 folks) and finally started breaking 80 with regularity. My career-low round is 70, and I had to hole out a 100-yard approach shot on the 18th hole to achieve that…

All of this to say: I’ve never been a great golfer. I have never been close enough to being an elite golfer, even to have any illusions about being one; I never venerated the common idol of “if only I had more time to practice, I could go pro.”

I did spend a handful of years working behind the counter at both public and private courses, serving as a pseudo-assistant, if you will, never properly enrolled in the PGA Program. I spent many more hours washing carts, picking ranges, cleaning clubs, and performing other assorted duties under the “outside services” banner. Occasionally, I’d help out with a junior clinic or give some tips to a struggling beginner conglomerate when the pro was overwhelmed (“No, a split-hand grip ala Ty Cobb is not optimal…”)

In other words, I’m not a teacher.

Why should you listen to me, then? Well, maybe you shouldn’t. I like to think, however, in addition to talking to plenty of coaches over the years, I’ve seen some pretty good golfers plying their trades. I’ve also watched a lot of absolutely abysmal play (have you ever seen anyone take seven shots to get out of a bunker only to putt the ball bank in said bunker with their next effort?)

Here’s my maxim for today: Unless you’re a professional golfer, you’re not a professional golfer.

Obvious, right? You’d think! To put it another way: The average golfer, let’s say, a 15 handicap and above, shouldn’t try to play a golf course the way a professional does.

For example:

• 190-yard par-3? You’re almost certainly not hitting the green.
• Pin hunting? Forget about it, play for the fat of the green.
• 60-degree wedge from a tight lie on the fringe? Putt that baby instead.
• Spinny shot from the sand that settles next to the cup? You’re just trying to get it out of the hazard in one.
• Tee it high and let it fly? Tee it low and swing a little more slowly.
• Club down and swing harder? Club up and swing softer.
• Low-lofted fairway wood (or driver!) off the deck? Your hybrid is a better friend.
• Hero recovery shot? Punch out instead.
• Going for a par 5 in two? Not you.
• Flop shot? Flop not.
• Forced carry? Force that club back in the bag and pull something to lay up with instead.
• Roll in the 25-footer for birdie? Treat it like a lag putt instead.
• Turning one around a dog leg? Turns out that was never the move.
• Leave the blades, take the players distance or game improvement irons.

Does all of this make golf somehow less bold? Less fun? I don’t know. Maybe. I guess that depends on how you view your score. Is it the most important thing? If so, it’s probably more enjoyable to shoot 84 than 99. However, if the birdie you made after hitting the shot of your life to a tucked pin from 180 yards (in the course of shooting 103) is more resonant, then carry on.

None of this is to say you ought to play golf a particular way, nor adhere to these reminders (which I need as much as the next duffer). The great thing about our maddening game is: You can play it your way (and should)! Golf is the game you make it. However, if you’re a weekend duffer, trying to get around 18 holes with delusions of chasing your tour card is more likely to lead to frustration and a soaring handicap index than, well, not, in my experience.