From War Wounds to Wellness: How Golf Became Unexpected Therapy

By Marty Turcios

Therapeutic value lies not just in clinical measures

but in meaningful, lived moments.

After World War II, Veterans Found an Unlikely Path to Recovery

After World War II, thousands of veterans returned home missing limbs and carrying trauma that most people could not see. They had to rebuild a life that no longer felt familiar.

One of the unexpected tools that helped was golf. A quiet game became a way back into movement, routine, and belonging. With help from the Red Cross, the Amputee Golf Association formed. It was not about trophies. It was about rebuilding a life. Veterans needed more than medical care. They needed ways to adapt to prosthetics, test their physical limits, handle the public’s reactions, and find their footing again in everyday life.

Golf gave them a place to do that. Not in theory. In practice. It gave structure, repetition, and a reason to show up. And over time, that idea grew into what we now call Therapeutic Recreation.

Why We Still Seek Proof (and What We Overlook)

Seventy-five years later, Therapeutic Recreation is a recognized profession. Programs now exist in hospitals, clinics, and communities around the world.

And yet, people still keep asking the same question: “Is golf therapeutic?”

Evidence-based research matters. But here’s the gap I keep seeing: many people studying therapeutic golf are not golfers.  And often, they haven’t lived with disability. That doesn’t mean their work has no value, but it does mean some key experiences get missed.

The most powerful therapeutic outcomes often happen in moments, not metrics. A participant laughs for the first time in weeks. Someone stands longer than they thought they could. A participant realizes, “I can do this.” These moments are milestones, and they don’t always show up on a chart. But they are real, and they matter.

If you want to understand what golf can do, you need to understand the lived experience of those using it.

What Golf Taught Me About Independence

I’ve lived with cerebral palsy, and golf, for most of my life. The game taught me coordination, balance, patience, and even problem-solving. But more than anything, it taught me what independence felt like.

In golf, the effort is mine. The progress is mine. The decisions are mine.

Real change often happens when a person starts to feel ownership again. Not just over a swing, but over their time, their goals, and their direction.

Two Models of Therapeutic Golf: Why the Difference Matters

1) The Clinical Approach

Often used in rehabilitation and hospital settings, this model typically includes:

• Lightweight clubs and soft golf balls

• Controlled, indoor environments

• A focus on specific physical goals like grip strength, balance, or range of motion

This approach is a valuable first step. It’s safer. It’s structured. It builds confidence early in recovery.

2) The Community-Based Approach

This is the model we use at public courses and driving ranges. It includes:

• Real clubs

• Real environments

• Real choice and autonomy

This is where leisure education becomes essential. Participants aren’t just performing motions; they’re learning how to participate in everyday life again. It’s real-world engagement.

Take one of our participants, a veteran with a below-the-knee amputation. In the clinic using a new prosthetic leg, he practiced balance and range of motion. On the driving range and during on-course golf experiences, he learned how to adjust his stance to the slope and un-even lies. He learned how to practice, how to handle frustration and how to find a rhythm that worked for his body. He showed up consistently. There comes a moment when a realization sets in, as it did for this person: “I’m not rehabbing anymore. I’m golfing.”

When that clicks, you start to see confidence and independence show up in the person. But this requires more than just clinical progress. It grows through real-world engagement.

What Makes a Therapeutic Golf Program Work

It’s not about expensive equipment or perfect technique. It comes down to a few fundamentals.

• Know the individual. Every person comes with a different body, injury, history, and goals. Adaptation is not one-size-fits-all.

• Prioritize enjoyment. Fun isn’t a bonus – it’s a motivator.  Repetition drives progress, and people repeat what they enjoy. They’ll come back.

• Make real golf accessible. Golf on a real course can be intimidating. Add disability and it gets harder. People need supportive environments, clear expectations, and basic etiquette. They need the space to learn without being judged.

• Let mindset lead. Golf is mental. People need room to explore and solve problems their own way and trust their own solutions. That’s often where the biggest growth happens.

• Solve transportation when you can. For many participants, this is one of the biggest barriers. If someone depends completely on other people’s schedules, participation becomes fragile. Missed rides become missed opportunities. Over time, that can turn into isolation.

Knowing When to Step Back: A Core Principle of Support

One of the most common missteps I see, even among well-meaning professionals, is over-helping. Family, friends, and even professionals can hover. They mean well. But if the participant never gets to lead, they never get to own the experience.

Support should build independence, not replace it. The participant should be in the driver’s seat and truly own the experience. Family members, staff, and volunteers play a vital role, but their goal should be to create space for the learner to lead.

We want to protect safety, of course, but therapeutic progress doesn’t mean eliminating risk. It means building resilience.

Why Lived Experience Matters - Especially in Program Design

Lived experience doesn’t replace professional training. It strengthens it.

When you’ve lived with a disability, you notice different things, you adapt differently, you teach differently. You understand what independence feels like, and what it costs to earn it.

That insight cannot be substituted with theory. If you’re designing, funding, or evaluating a therapeutic golf program, listen to the players. Include the people living it. That’s where the real insights and meaningful innovations come from.

The Future of Therapeutic Recreation

Therapeutic Recreation began the same way most practical solutions do: someone needed something that worked, and they built it. After WWII, golf became one of those tools because it provided structure, social connection, and a purpose.

The future isn’t about reinventing the model. It’s about protecting what made it work in the first place:  Real participation, in real settings, with support that builds independence.

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This article was written for educational purposes.

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