So often it will slip out, haphazardly and harmlessly, usually when an image or a golfer or a memory or an experience stirs the emotions and my admiration will let go with, “This is duende.”

It’s my favorite word, no question. It has endless layers of charm and the personal attachment is a source of pride. Duende was a word that belonged to George Frazier, as much as anyone can own a word. An incredibly gifted writer for magazines and newspapers (notably the Boston Globe), Frazier was family (he was my mother’s cousin) and so by extension, duende feels as if it’s in my DNA.

Months ago, it occurred to me that duende is suited seamlessly for golf, which is my passion. Where one course might fit your eye but another leaves you cold, or where you’re crushed for the runner-up while feeling hollow about the winner, or where two flights and a car ride to get to a golf destination doesn’t lessen your enthusiasm as opposed to the dread you feel by the prospects of playing a course less than an hour away.

All of it owed to duende, which the dictionary will state is a Spanish word that can be translated to mean “goblin.” Ignore that, because it’s a word that Frazier himself explained “is difficult to define . . . yet when it is there, it is unmistakable, inspiring our awe, quickening our memory.”

Moved to write about who and what in golf has duende – and just as important, who and what doesn't have an ounce of it – the experience was greatly satisfying, so why not come back with more?

There is, for instance, the rush to embrace this young Swede, Ludvig Åberg, but don’t be fooled. It is Viktor Hovland, the pride of Oslo, who is saturated in duende, not Åberg, and to stay within the confines of the recent winning Ryder Cup team, take note that Jon Rahm, not Rory McIlroy, oozes with duende.

Of course, duende is mysteriously fleeting. Rahm would have enough money for five lifetimes if he were to join LIV Golf, but he’d have not a drip of duende. That’s just the way it is. Conversely, if he spurns LIV Golf, his duende goes off the charts.

Brooks Koepka offers a similar picture. The man has swagger, which is important, but not a pinch of duende, which very well isn’t important to him, either. But it’s not his call, whether or not he has duende. The call belongs to the person judging for duende.

Xander Schauffele has duende, but it starts to fade the closer he gets to Patrick Cantlay, a premier ball-striker who is totally devoid of duende. Cantlay has company, however, because Justin Thomas has two majors and seemingly a birthright to always be paired with Tiger Woods, but let’s be honest. There’s no duende for JT.

Adam Scott? He’s dripping with duende. Ditto Jordan Spieth. So, too, Tyrrell Hatton, whose duende meter is amped up even more when he gets into animated discussions with himself. Scottie Scheffler is gaining duende and it has nothing to do with being No. 1 in the world. That’s the thing about duende; it’s not a measure of pure talent or achievement or the PR machine, because if it were, it would be simple.

No, duende tests your innate sense of what’s special and what isn’t and you don’t have to defend yourself. Not if you understand duende. For example, Lilia Vu is loaded with duende yet Lexi Thompson has never had it. As an entry, Minjee Lee and Min Woo Lee possess loads of duende, and while Megan Khang has it, most interestingly, so do her parents, Lee and Nou.

Perhaps nothing in golf sits further away from duende than this never-ending saga that involves the golf ball. As far back as 1903 the courts were asked to rule against companies that were copying the new Haskell ball.

And what was the motivation?

According to a newspaper report exactly 120 years ago: “The feature of the Haskell ball, which appeals to all golfers, whether professional or beginner, is the fact that the wound rubber core gives it more resiliency and it can be driven farther than the old solid gutta-percha ball and this feature adds greatly to the pleasure of the game.”

Who knows, perhaps Mary, Queen of Scots, was accused of hitting a golf ball that went too far in 1567. But surely, it’s a topic that has been a part of golf forever. Esteemed golf writer Henry Longhurst once wrote that elite players were hitting the ball so far that they have “rendered every course in the British Isles obsolete.”

That was in 1930, for goodness sakes, when Longhurst was aghast that Arthur Lacey reached the green on a 440-yard hole with a driver and spade-mashie (6 or 7 iron). It indicated doom for Roehampton GC, Longhurst suggested.

Sigh.

So far as research indicates, Roehampton is very much still embraced by golfers and the number of golf courses in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, which isn’t British but it’s the same vicinity, numbers more than 3,000.

Carelessly misusing the word “obsolete” into a tiresome debate that gets recycled by every generation of boorish golf administrators? That is so far from duende.

What is covered in duende is the opportunity to dismiss an argument that never goes away and to freely move about playing golf for your enjoyment while savoring the game’s surroundings.

Things will be OK, so long as there are golfers who explore the rich history of their own golf courses and share great knowledge with the membership. Club historians overflow with duende. Golfers who venture far and wide to savor experiences at unheralded nine-holers? Their duende resonates.

Just don’t trumpet those who are slowly but surely crossing off their rounds at America’s Top 100. Zero duende.

The old PGA Tour Qualifying Tournament – Q School to several generations of us – that provided a chance to get right into the big leagues? That, ladies and gentlemen, was layers thick with duende.

But what passes as Q School these days, to earn Korn Ferry Tour status? Sorry. There’s not a drop of duende.

Hitting a bump-and-run with a 7 or 8 iron? Good gracious, that is duende personified. Carrying four wedges when you only need two? That is not duende and my hand is raised as a guilty party.

Scotland for your links experience? Duende. Ireland or Northern Ireland for your links experience? Duende. England for your links experience? Duende. Australia for your links experience? Duende.

Arguing that one trip is better than the other? Zero duende.

And if on any golf trip you stop to feel the land, savor the wind, read the signs, and feel blessed to be playing this great game, then consider it a great walk unspoiled. Truly, that’s duende.