Below Par

I don't claim to be an excellent golfer, but I certainly do enjoy playing a round here and there with my dad and brother. Golf gives us an opportunity to spend about four hours rolling around in golf carts, chatting and competing with each other. The problem is, golf can be incredibly frustrating at times, especially on an off day. I don't play enough to be consistently good, but every once in a while a shot goes as planned and nothing is more satisfying than watching a golf ball soar into the air and gracefully arc back down onto the fairway. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen nearly as often for us plebeians as you would think after watching a PGA tournament.  

Every once in a while though, you feel like nobody in the world could have made a better shot than you just did. I first experienced this phenomenon when I was 14. My dad and I took the opportunity to spend a mild--for Texas--June day out on the golf course. Things weren't going well through the first seven holes as I was about three or four strokes higher than normal 48 or 50 strokes by the eighth tee. 

As I stepped up to the tee box, the wind picked up from right to left across the fairway. I could see the trees along the left side wavering under the breeze, but it would likely work to my advantage, mitigating my usual slice off the tee. The pin was in the middle of the green, which was nestled in between a pair of bunkers about 370 yards away and slightly to the left of the tee box. 

My dad chimed in after my first practice swing, "Good smooth stroke here Ryan."

After another two practice swings with the driver, I stepped forward, took a breath, and swung. 

"Oh boy! That'll be a good one." Something that my dad said after most of my tee shots, but this time it wasn't said out of a fatherly obligation to be encouraging. The ball sailed off, flying about 190 yards before hooking slightly left and rolling another 20 yards down the fairway. 

We hopped in the golf cart and proceeded down to hit our second shots. I hit a 4-iron pretty solidly on my second shot, with the ball landing in some tall grass just to the right of the right bunker. By this point in my life, I had only made par on a par 4 a couple of times before, so I was reasonably excited at the opportunity to chip the ball on the green and hopefully sink the first putt to make par. 

Pulling my pitching wedge and putter out of my bag, I walked over to my ball and waited for my dad to take his shot. He chipped it from about 50 yards away, landed near the top of the green and had enough back spin on the ball to roll back to within 10 feet of the pin. If I could match his shot, I'd set myself up for a doable putt to make par. 

Deep breath.

Smooth swing.

I definitely one-upped my dad this time. The ball lazily cleared the bunker, landed just above the pin and rolled back down the hill to drop into the hole. I had a birdie on a par 4 for the first time in my life, without even putting. Shots like that make you want to keep playing, no matter how many balls you lose to the water or how many triple bogeys windup on your scorecard. I haven't made a better shot than that since, but I know I have it in me, and that keeps me going through all of the rough times spent in the rough.