Golf

If there’s one thing you need to know about me, it’s that I keep a camera in my golf bag at all times for the day I hit my first hole-in-one. I love to golf. I love everything about it… waking up early for a tee time before the greens are cut and dry… rushing home from work (sticks and shoes in the trunk), because you know you’ll get at least 15 holes in before you can’t see the ball anymore… owning a bag that has an insulated pocket for beers… speculating with your best friends as to whether or not the cart girl will give you her number… learning much about the game from my uncle... and having the opportunity to share my passion years later with my nephews. Most of all, I love to get out there on the course and just compete – with you, with the strangers I’ve been paired with, and with myself.

Growing up in Augusta, Georgia, it was only natural to enjoy being around the game. My house was just a few miles south of the most beautiful piece of land I’ve ever seen – the Augusta National… home of The Masters. The first big road I learned to drive on is even called Bobby Jones Expressway. Playing was always a pretty rare treat, though, as golf is a pretty expensive sport to enjoy. I pieced my first “set” of clubs together by paying for them $5 at a time from flea markets my dad would drive me to. My friends gave me hell, because my first three wood was made of… well, wood (and I’m proud to say I carry that club in my bag to this day). I purchased my first driver from a local driving range. My friends and brothers also gave me hell about this. Ahhhh, the Nitro Whacka Whacka. Yes, indeed. Well, they gave me hell up until the point they begged to take a few swings with that bad boy. I stole my first putter out of my brother’s bag, and I’m pretty sure I just never gave it back (sorry, Brian). Returning the favor, my brother now plays with my first “real” set of irons, a set I played with until my uncle, Dick, generously gave me his set of Pings. And I am becoming an absolute witch with these here Pings.




Early this past summer… finally with some spare change in my pocket and a severe hip flexor injury sidelining me from my running addiction… my roommate and I decided to play 18. I enjoyed it so much I went and played the next day. Soon thereafter, I was out on the golf course three to four times per week. I ended up coming to the earth shattering conclusion that I enjoy playing even more when my game improves – imagine that. I purchased and began using a driver for the first time in six years, and I stopped using mulligans in order to calculate my handicap index. It got to the point that when trying to decide whether to move to Tampa, Florida or Kansas City, Missouri, my dad actually threw in the fact that my golfing season would be much shorter in Missouri as part of my decision criteria. I laughed it off, but I would soon realize how much it really did matter to me once I moved.

Part of the reason I enjoy walking up to the first tee box so much is due to the fact I can find a round to be beneficial to my day regardless of the type of day, week, month, or year I’m having. I love to golf when I’m happy, I love to golf when I feel frustrated, and I love to golf when something is weighing on my heart. As I mentioned, the set of irons I use to this day are the Ping Zings my uncle gave me after a great round together near Lake Martin in Alabama. Uncle Dick comes to visit every year he can, provided his visit coincides with Masters week and the chance to attend a practice round or tournament day. Although, he did attend my graduation as well! Every once in a while, including this past year, we have the opportunity to make it out there together. He has a sense of awe for the game and its legends. The Golden Bear, Arnie’s umbrella and his army… I associate most of them with him. He’s a true Southern gentleman, and this is a gentleman’s game. Watching the subtle joy on his face when Jack, Arnie, and Gary Player walked down the fairway toward the green where we were stationed last year was an awesome experience. I’m convinced that when God calls Uncle Dick home, he’ll be doing nothing more than teeing off at the best links Heaven has to offer – probably Augusta, National.




February was a tough month this year… again. Ridiculous and frustrating events in Kansas City had me down already when I received a phone call from my mom in the middle of the month. My uncle has been diagnosed with esophageal cancer that was already tearing down most of his other vital organs. His prognosis is understandably frightening, and the whole situation became a focal point in my prayer life. I really wish God would choose more subtle ways of putting personal, trivial issues in perspective. Following the next few weeks, though, it became time to choose joy. And when the snow in KC finally melted away just enough to clear the greens and fairways, I set out to enjoy one of my absolute favorite activities. Golf, a simple thing in life, is a game I enjoy so much partly due to the influence my uncle has had on my life. I figured it would be an activity to help derail my mind from the negative and focus on the joy. Let me tell you something. With a heart focused on him, it became the best round of my entire life…