Stop Chasing the Magic Bullet: Duncan McCarthy’s Simple Truth About Getting Better at Golf

After 35 years watching golfers of all stripes—from tour pros grinding for majors to weekend warriors grinding through Saturday morning fourballs—I’ve noticed something interesting happens every January. The range fills up with renewed purpose. New drivers arrive. Golf books get dusted off. There’s this palpable sense that this year, finally, we’ll unlock whatever’s been holding us back.

Then by March, most of us are playing pretty much the same as we did in December.

Mental performance coach Duncan McCarthy, who’s spent 15 years working with tour winners across multiple professional circuits, doesn’t pretend to have invented anything revolutionary. What he’s offering instead is something rarer in modern golf instruction: honest assessment followed by disciplined simplicity. And I think that’s exactly what most golfers need to hear.

The Stats Trap (and Why You Might Not Need Them)

Here’s where McCarthy’s perspective diverges from the analytics-obsessed culture dominating professional golf. He acknowledges that the obvious answer to improvement is data—tracking fairways hit, greens in regulation, short-game efficiency, all of it. I’ve seen this approach work spectacularly on tour. Every player I’ve caddied for or covered has benefited from honest statistical review.

But McCarthy makes a crucial distinction that I’ve watched proven true countless times at country clubs across America:

“The obvious answer is stats but, for your average golfer, you’re probably not going to keep stats. And if you do keep the basic ones, they might not tell the real story.”

This isn’t being dismissive of data—it’s being realistic about human nature. In my experience, most recreational golfers lack either the discipline or technology to track meaningful statistics. More importantly, even when they do, the data can be misleading. A golfer might think their iron play is the problem when really they’re setting themselves up poorly off the tee, leading to longer, more difficult approach shots. The stats show poor iron play; the real issue sits two shots earlier.

So McCarthy pivots to something almost embarrassingly simple: ask yourself what frustrates you most about your game.

“What’s the one area of your game that you’re constantly frustrated with? That’s probably a good way of looking at your weaknesses because you’re not going to be frustrated with your strength.”

In three decades covering professional golf, I’ve watched players waste months working on non-existent problems while ignoring genuine weaknesses. They let outside voices—coaches, commentators, playing partners—convince them something was broken when their own instincts were correct. There’s a lesson there. Your frustration is data too. Maybe your most honest data.

The One-Thing-at-a-Time Revolution

What strikes me most about McCarthy’s approach is how aggressively he argues for constraint. One thing. One month. Four or five range sessions focused exclusively on a single element.

I’ve seen tour players struggle precisely because they try to rebuild their entire game in a tournament week. I’ve also watched club golfers show up at the range and hit 30 drivers, 15 five-irons, and three chip shots—basically reinforcing whatever bad habits they’re already grooved. It feels productive. It’s actually counterproductive.

The discipline McCarthy prescribes—pick one weakness, give yourself a legitimate trial period, assess collectively rather than shot-by-shot—mirrors what the best players do, even if they don’t always articulate it this way. When Tiger worked on his swing mechanics, he wasn’t simultaneously tinkering with his short game. When Rory rebuilt his approach during off-seasons, he compartmentalized the work.

For the average golfer, this is revolutionary precisely because it’s so unglamorous. It’s not a new club. It’s not a flashy tip. It’s boring, methodical work on one thing until you can objectively measure improvement.

The Pre-Shot Routine: Where Mental and Mechanical Merge

McCarthy spends considerable time on what might seem like the most basic element of golf instruction: the pre-shot routine. Don’t let the simplicity fool you. Having caddied in the ’90s, I watched players develop routines that became psychological armor. The routine wasn’t just about mechanics; it was about creating a mental container that separated decision-making from execution.

What I appreciate about McCarthy’s framework is how he accommodates different mental styles. Some golfers visualize. Some verbalize. The key isn’t the method—it’s that you’re doing something intentional:

“If you’re not visual, be vocal to yourself… So you’re almost being your own caddy.”

This is genuinely useful because it gives permission for different personalities to optimize differently. A cerebral, verbal thinker doesn’t need to force visualization. An imaginative player doesn’t need to force mechanical self-talk. The requirement is intentionality, not conformity.

The Real Takeaway

Duncan McCarthy isn’t selling transformation. He’s selling improvement through clarity, discipline, and honest self-assessment. In an industry drowning in promises of quick fixes, that’s actually radical.

The gap between amateur and professional golfers isn’t primarily technological or even physical. It’s psychological—the ability to identify real weaknesses, commit to addressing them systematically, and resist distraction. McCarthy’s framework makes that approach accessible to anyone willing to be honest with themselves and disciplined in their practice.

That won’t sell many new drivers. But it might actually lower your handicap.