DJ Out

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had the opportunity to reflect on my relationship with the game of golf. To put it bluntly, having my high school career end leaves a hollow feeling. I know I’m nowhere done with playing competitive golf, but the thought of it genuinely scares me.

The process to play collegiate golf is brutal. If you’re not mentally and emotionally strong enough, it can make you feel worthless. The odds are so stacked against you that coaches are very selective on who they take. Typically, only 2 or 3 spots are available every year for thousands and thousands of potential players. I’ve been told “no” more times than anybody would ever realize.

At this point, I’m continuing to work harder than ever to achieve my goals. As I type this, I am on the plane to Las Vegas to keep competing. I’ll be the first to admit there’s days where I ask myself why I’m doing this. Sometimes it honestly feels hopeless. I think it’s the love of the game that keeps me from quitting.

In the end, there's something magical about the game of golf. Whether it's getting up before sunrise to "sweep the dew" off the golf course or the rush of adrenaline on the first tee of a tournament. More important to me will be the memories. Golf has taken me to some amazing places. I've played in events from Southern Florida to Northern California to everywhere in between. I've stayed at amazing resorts and Hampton Inns in towns of 5,000 people. I've played golf courses with prairie grass and water and (now) desert. I've met awesome people. Young and old, good or bad, I would say the people in golf are some of the best in the world. Candidly, I don't know what my future holds for me. Golf may end up being my livelihood. Golf may also just end up being a hobby. Regardless, the memories and experiences I've had from golf will help me the rest of my life.

Grandma

My grandma is one of the most important people in my life. An [age redacted] year old, 5'5, firecracker, she makes any room she enters feel brighter. However, other than being a major influence in my day-to-day life, she has played in an instrumental part in my growth in the game of golf.

For starters, my parents were never interested in the game of golf. Sure they gave me plastic clubs and balls when I was young, but they knew nothing about the game. Meanwhile, my grandma was the most established golfer in my family. She had an opportunity to play the game professionally, but was unable to find a chaperone to accompany her to events (don't ask, it was a different time). She ended up getting married, becoming a mother, and ended up winning numerous club championships at different clubs. Unfortunately, the game was taken away from her far too young. Before I was born, she found out she had an advanced stage of breast cancer. The surgery required to remove the cancer effectively ended her playing career.

Then, I was born. As the only one who took any interest in golf, I felt a unique connection to her. As you can probably see from previous blog posts, golf is a game which makes no sense to people outside the game, and all the sense in the world to people inside the game. Unfortunately, I took about a 10 year hiatus from the game to play other sports. When I picked up the game again at the age of 12, I fell in love with it right away. My grandma was one of my very first "swing coaches". She taught or confirmed most of the basics I was being taught. To this day, whenever she visits, we always trek out to the range. I pull out a chair and an umbrella for her, and we go to work. Her coaching style is very simple. It's always a welcome break from the intensely technical voice of my actual coach. Often she says something as simple as "slow down a little bit." It's amazing how sometimes the most simple advice is the most useful. 

More important than her physical coaching, she's also a fantastic mental coach. Every tournament round I play in, I always receive a text message almost immediately after. Sometimes it's congratulatory, but it's often motivational or encouraging. Especially when you get to higher levels of competition, the pressure to perform increases substantially. One even mediocre round can eliminate your chances at winning an event. An unusually poor round can sometimes feel like the world is spinning around you. Her cool-headed messages have the ability to put a bad day on the course into perspective. 

Finally, her actual support on the course is incredibly calming. She always comes in for the 4th of July and the very end of my high school season. She usually watches anywhere from 3-5 tournament rounds a year. There is something relaxing about seeing a calming presence in the often hectic nature of tournament golf. 

I'll close this post with one of the most amazing memories I've had with her. I was visiting her in Florida during Winter Break one year. She lives in a gated community with multiple courses and a practice area, which is where I spend most of my time. One day, I left my golf bag near the putting green as I went to go grab a drink. When I came back, my putter was gone. I looked up and saw my grandma rolling putts on the green. I remember standing next to my golf bag, mesmerized by watching her practice. For a brief moment, I watcher her gleefully reconnect with the game that was taken away from her.