I wasn't a Boy Scout, but it sounds like the moment of truth in starting a fire without matches is when a coal produced from the fireboard falls through the chimney notch onto the coal catcher.
In other words you've feverishly rubbed wood together enough that a piece of red hot sawdust falls onto a leaf.
If properly tended, this tiny coal can be nursed into a roaring campfire.
The obvious goal is to start a fire, but only a fool would bang a couple wet logs together and expect to start roasting weenies.
The obvious goal of a putt is to make the putt, but we often skip or sabotage the process required to have the best chance of making the putt.
The first step in putting well is gathering information. Just as we wouldn't have a prayer of starting a friction fire without detailed instructions and serious persistence/trial and error, we cannot expect to be a consistently good putter without being able to put together an educated plan tailored to the challenge at hand.
Secondly, consistently good putters genuinely believe they are good putters. This can be a delusion but a third party should be able to quickly see the situation for the way it is. There is either a campfire or a guy pointing at wet logs shouting, "FIRE!"
The real question is: Why do consistently good putters believe they are good putters?
Are they good putters because they believe?
OR...
Do they believe because they are good putters?
The answer is a mix of both, but either way, a consistently good putter believes.
This belief can be unintentional in someone oblivious to potential pitfalls or more overt in someone who has made all the mistakes and knows what to avoid.
As I've written before, one of the best putters I've ever seen was about eight years old and had no idea what he was doing. His sole motivation was humiliating his brother, the side effect of this spite was a Jordan Spieth esque display of putting greatness. He wasn't trying to be a great putter, he just happened to be.
I've also seen myself evolve from someone with the yips to an excellent putter. I was stuck in a rut for a long time trying every training aid on the market to make a better stroke. My theory was that if I built an infallible stroke in practice, I would be less likely to choke under pressure. What it took me a while to realize was that a pretty stroke is a byproduct of a good process, not the finished product. In trying to create a more perfect stroke, I was addressing the symptom instead of the disease.
I imagine the belief that I am a good putter as the little coal that falls through the fireboard, and my mind as the coal catcher. If the red hot ember I've worked hard to produce falls onto a wet leaf, the party is over before it ever gets started.
My sole purpose when putting is to harbor and foster this ember by carefully feeding it the fuel it needs: a vivid, honest plan.
Just as you can kill an ember by blowing too much or too little, you can extinguish your belief by neglecting or smothering it.
We neglect our belief when we allow our attention to be drawn by swing thoughts or consequences of missing the putt.
We smother our belief when we become overly aware of it. Excellent putters do not think about being excellent putters while the putter is swinging. The mind of a great putter has no room for thought while the putter is swinging. Great putters are passive observers of the stroke. People reflecting on career rounds often describe an out of body experience. If you become aware of the stroke during the stroke, you may as well spit on the ember you worked so hard to create.
