You know, when I first really got into golf, all these numbers and terms flew right over my head. Folks would be talking about their “handicap this” and “handicap that,” and I’d just nod along, mostly focused on not shanking my next drive into the woods. But the more you play, the more you start hearing about these numbers, especially when you’re trying to have a fair game with your buddies or, heaven forbid, join a little club competition. One number that often comes up as a sort of respectable benchmark is a “6 handicap.” Took me a while to really wrap my head around what that actually means out on the course, beyond just a number on a sheet.
So, What’s the Deal with a 6 Handicap?
Alright, let’s get down to it. When someone tells you they’re a 6 handicap, it generally means they’re expected to shoot, on average, about six strokes over par on a golf course of standard difficulty. So, if the par for the course is, say, 72, this golfer is typically posting scores around 78. That’s pretty solid, let me tell you. It’s not like they’re ready for the pro tour, but they’re definitely a good stick, way better than your average weekend player who’s just happy to find most of their balls.
I’ve played with a good number of guys who carry a 6 handicap. Some of them are like metronomes – always around that 77, 78, 79 mark. Steady Eddies. Then you’ve got others who are a bit more… unpredictable. They might have a hole or two that just explodes, but then they’ll string together a few birdies and somehow still end up near their number. It’s not an exact science, that’s for sure.
My Journey to Understanding (and a Bit of Grinding)
I remember when I was battling to get my own handicap down. For the longest time, I was stuck in the low teens, maybe a 12 or 13 on a good day. Breaking into single digits felt like a huge achievement. Getting down to a 6? That seemed like a whole other level. It wasn’t just about hitting one or two good shots; it was about cutting out the really dumb mistakes, the three-putts from 20 feet, the chunked chips that go nowhere.
What I learned through that process, and from playing with others, is that a 6 handicap usually means a few things in practice:
- They’re consistent…ish: To get to a 6, you can’t be spraying it all over the place every round. You’ve got to have some level of consistency. Fewer blow-up holes. But golf is golf, right? Even a 6 handicapper has days where nothing goes right.
- They usually have a decent short game: You don’t shoot in the high 70s regularly without being able to get up and down sometimes. They might not hit every green, but they can often salvage a par from just off the green.
- They probably practice: You don’t just stumble into a 6 handicap. It usually means they’re putting in some time, whether it’s at the driving range, the putting green, or just playing a lot. Or they’re just one of those infuriatingly naturally talented folks.
- Course management comes into play: They’re not just bashing the ball. They’re thinking about where to miss, what club to hit for position, not just distance. Well, most of the time. We all make boneheaded decisions now and then.
- There are expectations: Once you’re known as a 6, people (including yourself) kind of expect you to play well. Miss a short putt, and you feel it a bit more. It can add a little pressure, which, honestly, sometimes I think makes people play worse!
I eventually got my handicap down to around that mark for a while. It felt good. Like I’d really figured something out. Then, naturally, I’d go out and shoot an 84 the next week, just to keep me humble. That’s the game for you. It gives, and it takes away.
So, when you hear “6 handicap,” think of a good, solid amateur golfer. Someone who knows their way around the course, can hit most of the shots, and generally keeps it together. They’ll have their good days and bad days, like all of us, but their ‘average’ day is pretty darn respectable. It’s a great goal to shoot for if you’re serious about improving your game. Just don’t get too obsessed with the number itself; the real challenge, and the fun, is in the playing. Easier said than done sometimes, I know.
