Before Trackman: How We Practiced Golf in the ’90s and Early 2000s

Before launch monitors, swing analyzers, and 3D motion capture systems, there was…the old school grind.

If you were trying to get better at golf in the 1990s or early 2000s, you didn’t have a fancy Doppler radar to tell you that your 7-iron spin rate was 5% off. You had something else: your eyes, your gut, and maybe a worn-out notebook stuffed into your bag somewhere between the broken tees and snack wrappers.

Golfers back then practiced differently — not necessarily better or worse — but in a way that built a certain kind of resilience. A stubbornness. A feel for the game that can be hard to come by today, when every swing comes with a side of data.

Let’s take a stroll back to a simpler time. You might be surprised at how much we can still learn from it.

“Feel It, Don’t Measure It”

In the ‘90s and early 2000s, improving your swing meant one thing: grinding it out on the range. No fancy metrics to obsess over. You’d hit a ball, watch it fly, and feel what happened.

Missed it thin? You knew instantly — not because Trackman flashed a number at you, but because your hands were still vibrating from the shock.

Pulled it left? You didn’t need a heatmap. You saw it with your own two eyes, probably followed by a frustrated sigh and a muttered “what was that?”

Practice sessions weren’t dictated by data. They were ruled by instinct — a style modern coaches sometimes refer to as “the lost art of practice”.

And guess what? It wasn’t always pretty. But it made you pay attention in a way that modern players sometimes forget.

Range Buckets Were a Science (Kind Of)

Back then, small, medium, and large buckets weren’t just about how much time you had — they were about your training plan for the day.

A small bucket? That was a “maintenance” session: loosen up, groove a few swings, and get out of there before you started tinkering too much.

A medium bucket? Probably a wedge-to-mid-iron session, working on distance control by sheer repetition.

A large bucket? That was for when things got serious. You were fixing a slice, finding a new swing thought, or rebuilding your driver swing from the ground up — with nothing but dirt, sweat, and stubbornness to guide you.

Nobody thought about “ball speed averages” or “attack angle” graphs. If you left the range hitting it a little better than when you showed up, that was a win.

DIY Drills Were King

Before YouTube tip videos were a click away, you had to invent your own drills or borrow them from magazines and pros you watched on TV.

Missed right a lot? You might stick a water bottle outside your target line to force an inside-out swing.

Struggled with ball striking? Maybe you drew a chalk line on the range mat and tried to make contact in front of it every time.

There was an art to figuring things out. You were your own swing coach, video analyst, and mental game expert — all rolled into one sweaty, frustrated, hopeful golfer.

Today, it’s easy to load up a dozen drills for any swing fault. Back then? You had to get creative. And honestly…some of those homemade fixes still worked better than any $1,200 gadget does today.

Peer Coaching (a.k.a. Your Buddy Telling You “You’re Coming Over the Top Again”)

Without a coach or a swing monitor always at your side, the next best thing was your golf buddy. Sometimes helpful, sometimes annoying, but always there with a fresh set of eyes.

You’d take a few swings, look at them sheepishly, and hear something like:

“Dude, you’re totally coming over the top again.”

Or the classic:

“Try keeping your head down…like, more down.”

Sure, they weren’t trained professionals. But sometimes, that outside perspective was enough to trigger a breakthrough. Or at least, it made the endless hours on the range a little more bearable.

Short Game Practice Meant One Thing: Imagination

Practicing short game without a fancy launch monitor? You got creative. You’d toss balls into different lies — bare patches, thick rough, grainy sand — and just figure it out.

You learned what 30 yards felt like, not what a machine told you it was. You figured out how to flight a wedge low under the wind by experimenting, not because a simulator told you your launch angle needed to be 28 degrees.

It was messy. It was chaotic. It was beautiful.

(And honestly, it’s a big reason why a lot of old-school players still have freakishly good hands around the greens today.)

The Mental Game Wasn’t an App — It Was Survival

There was no mindfulness app telling you when to breathe. No mental game coach sliding into your DMs with performance hacks.

You learned to deal with frustration the old-fashioned way: by chunking three chips in a row, muttering a few choice words, and deciding whether to grind it out or pack it in for the day.

Focus wasn’t something you tracked on a wearable. It was something you earned through sheer stubbornness — and a few too many afternoons spent sweating through your glove on a dusty practice green.

Why It Still Matters Today

It’s tempting to romanticize the past — to say that “feel” was better than “tech,” that “grit” mattered more than gadgets.

The truth? It’s not about better or worse. It’s about balance.

Trackman is incredible. Modern tools have made it easier than ever to diagnose swing flaws, dial in distances, and get better faster.

But there’s still something to be said for grabbing an old wedge, heading to the short game area, and just…figuring it out.

Golf isn’t played on a screen. It’s played out there — in the wind, on the grass, with sweaty hands and a mind full of stubborn hope.

Maybe the best practice routine is a little bit of both worlds: use the tech when you need it, but don’t forget how to listen to your own game, too.

After all, the ball doesn’t lie — even if your launch monitor says it’s “within tolerance.”