But here it goes....I'm talking about golf and life.
So last night was my son's first golf tournament this year. He is the 7th man out of 11, the way I understand. This means the team takes 6 people to varsity meets and he golfs as the lead JV golfer when both participate.
For the last week he has practiced and pulled varsity scores.
He stays late, or comes home to eat something and then goes back to the course to golf.
He has not scored over a 45 in the last week. And that was his highest score.
Last night I got to watch him at his first meet. My brother, aka: Uncle Shawn, was there.
Uncle Shawn is like the equivalent of royalty when it comes to who Nathan wants to attend his golf meets. (Uncle Lance and Uncle Andy are also included in this equivalent, but neither of them were able to attend)
The morning started out with Nathan telling me that he wanted me to come and walk the course behind his group of golfers. And could I please bring him a gatoraide. And a snack.
Of course. Isn't that what mama's do?
Uncle Shawn was also able to make it to this meet.
Warming up for a shot.
After punching out. And get back on track.
The boys and Uncle Shawn would say things like "nice strike" and "good ball."
And I was excellent at keeping my distance and just being there to observe.
But when one bad hole turned into another, I was asked to "go home."
Mama was totally not prepared for that to come out of my golfer's mouth.
I stayed and I struggled as I watched my Wildcat struggle.
He had pinned so many hopes on this first meet.
And based them on how WELL he did in practice on this very course.
Then I went home.
So did Uncle Shawn.
I don't know what his score was and I am not going to ask. It is bad enough that his score will be published.
He came home.
Threw around a whole bunch of attitude.
All I did was say his name.
He walked over to me, sat down next to me, put his head on my shoulder and cried.
"all the work i've done....all the great scores i've had...and i had to choke on the first meet in front of my mom and my uncle."
What do I say?
I held my junior varsity golfer while he cried.
And that was it...he got up and, while humbled by his bad scores, determined that tomorrow was a new day.
Golf and Life.
"It is nothing new or original to say that golf is played one stroke at a time. But it took me years to realize it."
"Therfore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."