Competitive Golf Has Crushed Me So Often... But Here's How I Managed The Win Of My Life

I haven't won much in relation to golf during my 31.5 years on this planet, and my limited ability means achievements like this will almost certainly continue to be few and far between.

Nevertheless, the genuinely shocking success I managed at Golf Monthly's recent spring/summer test day will undoubtedly remain the most special for a long time, and maybe ever. Okay, so it's not The Masters, but it means the world to me.

Twice a year, the entire staff at Golf Monthly and a handful of our freelancers converge at a lovely golf course somewhere in England in order to capture imagery before and after testing various apparel products from dozens of different brands.

While the work aspect is obviously important, another huge part of the day is a Stableford competition in teams of four and as individuals for a cash prize. It's serious stuff.

Before this year, I'm not sure I'd broken the top-20 on the individual side (about 24 people usually play) in five attempts and I was resigned to the fact that wouldn't change after hearing we were playing the beautiful yet incredibly challenging Tandridge Golf Club.

"It's probably the hardest course we've played at one of these test days," I heard someone say beforehand. Fantastic. As someone who has struggled badly at far more straightforward courses and has the mental strength of smoke, I wasn't expecting anything else than four hours of unrelenting punishment.

I told Golf Monthly editor Neil Tappin as much beforehand. "I'm not really looking forward to this, if I'm honest," I admitted when asked if I was ready.

I'd tried absolutely everything to give myself a chance at one of these test days - playing the day before, playing regularly in the build-up, practicing, not practicing, staying close by the night before, driving up in the morning. Nothing had worked.

"But I'm just going to try and enjoy it because I don't expect anything," I continued. "The weather is nice, it's a beautiful place, and I haven't been out onto a course in about a month. I'll just try and play with the right attitude and we'll see what happens."

For me, that is a huge task. If I can be candid, I've really struggled with my outlook when the Golf Monthly team has gathered to play in the past because I feel so inferior, ability-wise. It's led to some tough days.

So many of the team are single-digit handicappers, and as lovely as everyone is, I've regularly felt like I'm not good enough at golf to gain their respect. That has weighed really heavily on me, and my desire just play well to prove something to them has crushed me more than once.

Following the most recent disaster, I decided enough was enough and I spoke to my colleague, PGA pro Katie Dawkins, about my mental state as it relates to golf and a few other aspects of my life involving sport.

Katie was incredibly helpful - as was women's golf editor Alison Root - in talking me through what I was thinking and feeling and why, and I ended up managing to completely change my outlook on these meaningful competition rounds.

Consequently, I was able to produce my finest hour on the golf course. I would recommend finding someone to help you do the same if this tale is one you can relate to.

As a result, I rocked up to Tandridge feeling largely at peace. I'd been paired with a great trio of other guys (Baz Plummer, Johnny Percival and Sam De'Ath) and armed with plenty of wise words from my unofficial mental coach, I thought I'd take it one shot at a time and enjoy my day.

After all, despite what I've said, it's also not lost on me that these are real first-world problems and I am unbelievably lucky to have this job. But I digress.

Given I'd been driving it so well recently, I was a little perturbed to see my opening tee ball fade off into the right-hand trees. Instead of allowing it to bother me as I might have done in the past, I committed to a sensible recovery shot and found the fairway in two.

A pulled iron later, I faced a tricky wedge shot. Had I been tense, my ball would probably have been knifed off into the Surrey hills somewhere. But, again, I was weirdly relaxed and produced a decent high chip to set up an opening par.

Through two holes, I remained at level par. My group was surprised but apparently impressed. I was simply shocked.

From there, it was about remaining level and taking each shot at a time, as I'd promised myself earlier. For anyone who plays the game, we all know it's too easy to start thinking about the future and losing momentum right now.

So I carried on doing what I was doing. One step at a time. Tandridge is tough, and it took a fair few shots from me over the coming holes, but I bagged an amazing birdie on a short par-4 and made the turn in 43 (+7). For context, my handicap before this round was 17.3 and I had 22 shots to play with on the day.

From memory, it was just before the turn that I thought to myself: 'I don't think I'm going to lose it today. Not mentally or technique wise. I can start to really enjoy this now.' That's rare.

But, following another poor tee shot out to the right on the 10th, I wondered if the bubble had burst. However, an uncharacteristically impressive recovery up to the green out of the trees settled me down and my mind briefly wandered... "Imagine if you won," it whispered.

Nope. None of that, thank you. Onto the 11th.

Still fully relaxed and apparently consumed by the flow state, I bogeyed each of my next five holes as the points continued to pile up.

On the 16th tee, my stomach dropped briefly. "There's only three holes to go. Do not mess this up now. You could actually win." Cue lost tee ball and triple-bogey seven.

Mumbling away to myself on the green, it would have been so easy to lose my head at that stage. I've done it far more often than I'd have liked in the past, and it's something I'm not proud of.

But, once again, I rallied, reset and carried on as if nothing had happened. I can't explain how difficult I normally find that process, but on this day it was happening so easily.

One of the longest drives of my life later (280 yards), I was a flick of a wedge away from the green. Cue duffed chip. My mental resilience is going through a hell of an examination today. The resulting bogey was fine, I thought. 'Just one more good swing.'

Tandridge's 18th hole is over 410 yards from the whites and is often very much into a strengthening wind, which historically would unnerve me to no end.

Yet, I made it onto the putting surface in three (thanks to a ridiculous flop shot from next to the 10th tee box - one which Johnny and Sam later told me they didn't believe I'd be able to keep on the green) and I had about 20 feet for par. I told Baz I was just going to try and two-putt it, and whatever happens happens.

As I walked up to the ball, I told myself how proud I was of the way I'd played and no matter what happens, I'd had a great day. But when the par putt dropped, my subconscious burst into life. I felt like I'd won The Open and the result was a huge (mildly embarrassing) fist pump the likes of which you rarely even see on tour.

For me, the last stroke was just a reflection of the most special round I'd ever produced. I was also stunned. To this day, I have absolutely no idea how I was able to do it.

The congratulations I received in the moments that followed were met with mumbled replies of 'thanks. Yeah, I don't really know what to say' and an awkward grin. I was elated and I'm also not ashamed to say I was a bit emotional, too.

It wasn't so much the round itself but a response to everything that had come before and what it now meant. As I said, all I'd really wanted was a bit of respect from my far more talented colleagues, and now I'd made it happen (I hope).

Ever since I started at Golf Monthly, I wondered and imagined what it would be like to win an event. Literally anything even remotely meaningful, which our test day is in my eyes.

I regularly daydreamed scenarios in my head like winning one in a playoff or having a putt at the last to win by the barest of margins. I just never truly believed it would happen.

But, thanks to the wonder of the Stableford format, 42 beautiful points and a new mindset I had worked incredibly hard to create, a dream of mine came true (by four points, in case you were wondering).