First it was the camper. Now I am putting my golf gear away for the winter. As I do I find myself reflecting on the year it was. I had struggled with my game for some time. In August I was ready to give it up. But then in the last month things changed. There is a story there best left for another day. Let’s just say I was sorry to see the season come to an end.
June 1 was a memorable kind of morning. As per usual my friend and I hit the links just after the sun came up. The third hole at my golf course is a par 3. I teed off and watched as the ball landed on the green and then disappeared. I looked at my friend and said that it looked like it went in. He thought so as well. But at our age the vision just isn’t what it used to be.
As we quickly found out, it indeed had gone in the hole. You would think that a moment like that would produce an explosion of excitement. Surely a fist pump, a high five or even a little victory dance. After all, this is what golf dreams are made of.
Not me. The first thought in my mind was that I was going to die that day. It was an overwhelming feeling of doom.
I wish I was making this up. There I was having just accomplished something extraordinary and my brain decided that was the right time to suggest to me that my time on Earth was ending. No celebration. No euphoria. Just an inexplicable feeling that something terrible was about to happen.
In spite of those feelings, I did think I should get a picture taken. Surely at some point the reality of the situation would sink in and I would want the picture to commemorate the moment.
Now, I get it. I am not photogenic to begin with. Having a natural smile in a picture is completely foreign to me. I have no idea on how to pose. Most pictures of me need to be photo shopped. But you would think that having one of the greatest moments of my golfing life would at least show up in a picture. At minimum, a hint of happiness. Apparently, I was asking too much.
My hair looked like it had been in a windstorm. My facial expression was one of someone just having received bad news.
I promptly sent the picture to my wife and kids. One of my sons responded by saying, quite sarcastically, there is the face of a man doing his favorite thing with the greatest possible outcome.
Fair enough. I couldn’t argue with that assessment.
I posted the picture on social media. Maybe that was a mistake. And then again maybe I thought that congratulations and accolades might bring about some excitement in me. I was upfront about having a bad hair day. Most responses were great with messages that my hair was a minor detail.
There was one friend who was quick to point out that his hair was “stronger” and his legs not as white. I suggested to him that I would concede on the hair but asked that he quit looking at my legs.
Another congratulated me but then made the comment that “you look pumped, at least I think that’s your pumped look.” What could I say?
In retrospect, today I feel good about that hole in one. I feel good about the time I spent on the course. I feel good about the social aspect of it. I feel good about the time spent in the early morning, watching the sun come up and enjoying what mornings have to offer.
And as far as the hole in one goes? I beat odds of 12,500 to 1. Apparently, the odds of getting good hair and decent legs on the same day were considerably worse.
It could have been worse. I could have missed the hole.
Now to wait till spring. The good news is that in less than two months the days start getting longer. There is hope.
