Anyway, I can probably count on two hands the number of times I've played a round or gone to a driving range since. Suffice to say, my skill set has not improved, although I have tried dilligently to bridle my tongue. Ironically, The Boy is a golfer. A good golfer. He loves the game. He gets the game. He has the patience, dedication, and drive to succeed in the game. By not playing, I've probably missed some good time with The Boy, but that has started to change.
Recently, I was challenged to participate in a golf tournament by one of suppliers at work. I had all intentions of saying no, but my boss said yes on my behalf. This has led to all manner of consternation for me but it has also opened the door to me picking up a really good golf instructor:
|My Golf Sensei|
We played nine holes last night. I think it was the first time I've played a hole, let alone nine, in more than ten years. I'm sure The Boy wanted to ram a nine iron into my head more than once, like the third ball I lost into a water hazard. But if he did, he never showed it. Instead, he was a never-ending font of encouragement and enthusiasm. I think most of my shots would have elicited a cry of 'Oh the humanity!' had there been a commentator, but instead I felt like with each shot, I was being taught something by my son, The Boy.
The nine holes were a train wreck. It's a good thing the event I'm playing in on Monday is a 'scramble.' But it's an even better thing that those nine holes gave this middle-aged man a chance to learn from his son. I am looking forward to getting out there again with him. He's got a lot he can teach me and not just about golf. And I think there's still a thing or two I can share with him. And maybe I'll even improve my golf game along the way. Maybe.