Golf

At the age of 14 I started viewing myself as an athlete. This was the first year that I was successful at a sport; I was undefeated in the 60, 100, and 200 yard dash. I soon picked up Volleyball and Football and was successful in those as well. I'm sure that my dad had a mix of pride in what I was accomplishing and frustration that his son has surpassed him at those sports... which explains why he continued to push me to golf with him. :)

I wrote off my ineptitude on the golf course, saying that it was an old man's sport, but I continued to go out with dad several times a summer. The obstacles are obvious. As a young man I lacked the patience and the concentration for the sport. In every other sport I was taught to lead with my hips and that the more muscle I used the better my results would be. Neither was true in golf.

It wasn't until the summer after my senior year in college that I began to make any real progress in my dad's sport. I took a summer golf class, read some books, but more importantly I played almost weekly with my dad. Something in me slowed down and began to notice the beauty of the game. It was more than something to be conquered, it was something to be enjoyed. It's played on some of the most beautiful land available, at a fairly relaxed pace, and it brings people together. We got in about three good summers of golf before we found out about dad's tumor. I never even came close to beating him. Last year, at the peak of my dad's cancer, I didn't even touch a club. I have his clubs now. I think it's time for me to pick them up.