My senior year of high school was coming to a close. The varsity golf season had been an eventful one to say the least; we had only four guys on the team, two of which were incapable of breaking 55 on nine holes. The team had make a terrible showing at the qualifier for the state championships, however I had qualified as an individual for the second straight year. My previous year at states had not been one to remember; inaccurate off the tee and a disappearance of my putting had left me feeling like I was trying to jump out of a plane and hit a two-foot target. But this year was different. I was a good golfer, had solid parts of my game. One thing held me back, though. In my entire life, I had never broken 80 for 18 holes of golf. Every time I played, one part of my game just wouldn’t show up. Well, AT LEAST one part. But like I said, this day felt different.
Me and my coach did our usual routine of stopping at a nearby diner for some much needed breakfast prior to my tee time. After a great meal I showed up at the course. Maybe I was a little cocky, but I had a reason to be. The championship was being held at my home course where I had been playing since I was five. I knew the course better than I knew myself, having also worked there for two years. I walked around like I owned the joint and when my time came to tee off, I piped a drive 350 yards right down the center of that opening par five.
I finished the front nine at three over, not a bad nine for me, and had set myself up to successfully achieve that goal I had been reaching so long for. But that back nine was the bane of my existence. Those first two holes had never been nice to me and I felt that if I could just get through them with bogeys, I would have a good chance at finishing well. A long uphill par four and a really screwed up dogleg par five stood between me and greatness. Half an hour later, my coach met me on 12th hole, noticing how cocky I looked. I had played those two hole, the holes that have always messed with my score, at even par. I get through hole 14 at five over knowing that the last four holes could easily be played in at even.
That’s when it happened. The siren sounded alerting us of an incoming storm. The delay was only an hour, but people tend to talk during delays. I discovered that a simple even par finish would put me in second place and give me an invitation to the New England high school championship. With this on my mind, I was primed and ready to finish my last four. I stepped up on that 15th tee and hit the tee shot that would lead me fame. Well, not so much. About an hour later, I found myself standing on the 18th green, in front of a crowd of a few hundred, staring down the hole after just lipping out a three footer for double bogey. As I tapped in for a seven, I looked back at my coach, him not realizing that I had just completed what felt like the greatest blowup in history. I had finished those last four holes triple, triple, double, triple to finish at a terrible 16 over par for the round.
After signing the score cards and interviewing with the newspaper, I hopped in the range picker and got to work; and as I was driving around the range, I came to this realization. That day just summed up life. Everything may start off great, but there will be slip ups along the way, and even if you completely lose yourself and mess up terribly, there’s always better times to come. It may not be easy to get over, but eventually you will and you’ll just take that screw up as a lesson learned.
