I got my first set of real golf clubs (as in not plastic) somewhere around age 5 and started lessons shortly after. As I grew taller and got stronger, I improved. In high school, I started playing my first organized tournaments and saw my scores get even better. Then in college, I incorporated strength and flexibility training and increased my practice time. My scores fell further still.

And then it stopped. I plateaued. I practiced more, trained harder, and nothing.

I was good but not great. Good enough I could have fun with any group on the course but not good enough to make my college team. It was frustrating. My interest waned. Why couldn’t I get better?

As a finance major I was discovering my interest in financials, metrics, and models and would quantify anything and everything I could. Baseball stats, market data, my intramural softball team’s batting averages, you name it, I had a spreadsheet for it.

I began tracking my rounds by counting things like how many times my drives landed in the fairway, how many putts, basic stuff. Then I expanded: penalties incurred, sand traps hit, percentage of times I hit the green from various distances. I marked everything on my scorecard then entered it into a spreadsheet after the round to see the results.

Before, my practice routine consisted of a little time in each area: drives, irons, chips, putts. A well balanced approach, right?

But now a picture started to emerge about my game. I remembered the bad holes, the ones where I made a big mistake and kicked myself. That’s what I thought I was doing wrong. But the data started to show a more subtle and nuanced picture.

I discovered things like the distance in my drives, something I worked hard to improve, had very little impact on how well I did on a hole, whereas if I hit a green in the proper number of shots my success rate shot up. I saw that I was much more accurate at certain distances than others. It became clear my bad scores were more often the result of one or two really bad holes rather than individual bad shots.

With this new picture of my game, I practiced differently. I focused on the shots that were giving me trouble and improved my accuracy at greater distances. I watched for problem holes and sought to minimize damage rather than risk more to “save” the hole. I approached holes differently to play to my strengths and avoid areas of weakness.

My scores plunged. Every week I was setting personal bests. My enthusiasm for golf renewed, but my fascination with numbers exploded.

It was like I had found a superpower: I could improve anything by just tracking the numbers.

This story doesn’t end with a big tournament where I win my way onto the team or beat the school bully at a showdown on the links. I wouldn’t go on to play any meaningful competitions. I play maybe one round of golf a year and am terrible.

My interest in metrics, data, and analysis, however, did continue. I would go on to be a part of startups, turnarounds, capital raises, and acquisitions using those basic principles forged while tracking my golf game.

Understanding the numbers is a superpower, but not one limited to just me or anyone else. It can be taught, it can be learned, it can be developed.

Our perspective of the problem is often skewed by our relationship to the results. Things that are extra frustrating to us stand out as a large part of the problem when, in fact, it may not be where the issue lies at all.

I would become so frustrated when an aggressive shot came up short or I barely missed a long (likely unmakeable) putt. The reality was those holes were won or lost with my approach shots, where I had more internal tolerance for mistakes. Seeing the numbers helped me see the issues more clearly.

You have limited time and money, and a “balanced” approach isn’t helpful unless your challenges are equally balanced. You need to be focused on where the greatest opportunity for improvement is.

Adding distance to my drives may have been fun, but it didn’t do much if anything for my scores. My time was better spent elsewhere.

Your day is likely filled with a lot of decisions, all of them happening fast. Decisions need to be rooted in a big picture strategy and an understanding of what is required of that vision. If I had a bad shot on a hole, I would become frustrated and convinced that my next shot had to be GREAT to get me back into contention.

The reality was that taking a bad shot and then doubling down on an even harder shot only added to the likelihood of a blowup hole that would tank my round. Instead, considering each decision with the whole round in mind rather than the last shot allowed me to minimize damage and improve my overall scores.

To add a more data-driven approach to your business, start with three things:

Lastly, don’t be concerned that this approach will make your business robotic or lacking creativity and improvisation. On the course I still had to hit the shot. I still had to play with intuition and “feel.” The numbers were a tool, not the game. The process was always in service to my goals.

If you want to hear what this sounds like in practice, this one’s worth your time. Jay Clouse hands his own podcast over for a live audit, and Jeremy Enns walks through what’s actually holding it back. It’s a great reminder that the numbers are a tool for the people running the show, not a replacement for them.

My priorities in golf have changed since then, and so has my decision making. Now I judge a round not by my score but by the stories I come home with. If I come to a situation where it would take a miracle, one-in-a-million shot to work and otherwise end in disaster, the old me would play it safe, play it smart.

The new me?

Let it rip.

Articulate your goals. Determine the right metrics. Track, monitor, and act accordingly.

Go get ’em, tiger.

Chase “drive for show, putt for dough” Spenst