In South Korea, improving golf is a lifestyle commitment
Courtesy of Brian Mogg
We all know the time we fell in love with the game. Many of us in our 40s (40) call the image of a 21-year-old Tiger Woods walking No. 18 at Augusta National after his breakout win at the 1997 Masters. It wasn't just the fiery aftermath, it was Woods' embrace of his father, Earl, that forever encapsulated the emotion, joy and inspirational power of the sport.
What was that collective era – or who was that superhero – for the people of South Korea?
“Simple answer: Se-Ri Pak,” said GOLF Top 100 teacher Brian Mogg, who has been in charge of the country's higher education institution since 2009. “Some of the kids are 20 or 22 years old, we wonder how they got here, what is their reason for playing. They all said the same thing: 'When I was three years old, I saw Se-Ri on TV holding a trophy and I wanted to be like her.' “
To truly understand why Pak – a 25-time winner on the LPGA Tour and inductee into the World Golf Hall of Fame – remains a cult icon in South Korea, you must first familiarize yourself with a culture that places great emphasis on pride, discipline, competition and respect. Ask any professional golfer what it takes to be successful and those same words are likely to come up.
It is that attention to detail that has made South Korea the center of golf instruction. But unlike the States, the experience is more than just a few hours a week between student and teacher. It's a lifestyle commitment, often, that involves the focus of the player's entire family. Mogg understood this early on and hired former LPGA players to serve as coaches at his school in Seoul. These are not just teachers; they deliberately play the role of a parent for many students.
“They are a big part of my success,” Mogg said.
Even with the inclusive support provided by Mogg's team, parents are still heavily involved in all aspects of a player's progress. Mogg remembers what happened to one of his former students who eventually turned pro and, as is common in Korea, was credited with increasing the family fortune.
“Many times, when a student comes to his studies, his family also comes,” he said. “The family buys this dream, and it is the family's dream that this child will raise them to a high level. It's more than just getting ahead. These kids are expected to be the next stars.”
Perhaps for good reason. Kids don't play regular golf in Korea. They are also not allowed in many subjects. Either they are on a competitive path or not, partly because education in the country is very expensive – about ten grand a month in a regular school. That pressure goes back to the player if he is lucky enough to make it on the pro circuit. And, remarkably, many do. In the current Rolex rankings, 30 of the top 100 female golfers in the world are from Korea.
Brian Mogg is not the only pastor who has been impressed by the great devotion of young Koreans. Kenny Kim, a former UC Irvine student and producer who is one of two Korea-based teachers at GOLF Top 100 Teacher Chris Mayson's school, grew up in Korea before moving to the US at age 11 to pursue the game under the influence of GOLF Top 100 Teacher. his parents, who thought the States would better prepare him for a career in sports.
After his playing days ended at the age of 29, Kim returned to Korea to focus on helping young golfers learn the game, using his own upbringing as a blueprint for communicating their values and hard work. His students work hard.
He says: “It's Monday to Friday or Saturday.” “These kids are here all day, every day. I know they are serious.”
It's all, Kim says, about competition. “[In Korea]kids will tell me how they need to shoot 80 to beat another kid. I'm like, 'No, you just need to find out better.'”
Another big difference between education in Korea versus the States? “We're working on practice,” Kim said, “but we can't really get to the golf courses.” Mogg echoes that, describing the small side rooms where students, with mats and goggles, would spend hours practicing their strokes.
He says: “The American player would spend 90 seconds there each day, but these kids spend an hour on a two- or three-foot putt, trying to see if they can hit the ball straight.”
There is a widespread perception that Korean golfers are moving away from a rigid, assembly-line system churning out robotic clones. In fact, that system not only allows the individual, but encourages it. That's another unique adjustment Mogg had to make. A teaching style – where you commit to just one teaching style – is not considered acceptable in Korea. The most successful instructors take an approach that cares deeply for each student.
Mogg says: “Even though the Korean way of learning is leftist and technical, you still have to work with the individual, treat them as individuals and make sure your lessons are taught that way. I have to fight my instincts again [adapt] that they naturally learn the best.”
Still, Mogg finds teaching in the country very rewarding. He had the privilege of coaching the first ever Asian-born major champion, YE Yang, who came from behind to beat Tiger Woods in the 2009 PGA Championship.
The memory is still fresh. “After YE won the PGA, we arrived in Seoul at 4:30 in the morning,” Mogg said. “HE holds the Wanamaker Trophy and we walk out of this little baggage claim, turn the corner, and it was supposed to be like The Beatles coming to America – the hero came home and all of Seoul was in the waiting room to say hello and praise him.”
No doubt, somewhere in Seoul, a young Korean boy had his eyes on Yang and his gargantuan medal, maybe he saw himself in him and fell in love with the game.
We all have that one moment.
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