In an ever increasingly cynical world, rife with selfishness and greed, this may end up being my favorite golf related story I'll ever tell. But, like many epics, this is not a short tale (at least for a blog). My last post was about being a father proud of his son for almost beating him on a tough day at Pacific Dunes. This one is about a dream long in coming, perseverance, kindness, and, ultimately joy experienced at Sheep Ranch.
When my daughter was younger, she exhibited strong talent for golf but, like so many others of her generation, struggled with doing anything consistently for 5 hours and, thus, not wanting to embitter her against the game, I begrudgingly stopped pushing her to play it with the hopes that she might pick it up again. In high school, when given a "choice" of which sport to play, she did just that and ended up playing three years of varsity golf. It helped that matches were only 9 holes, but I spent three years also helping to build her confidence, pay for lessons and generally give her mental advice as all golfers struggle in that regard. For my part, I was able to get her to golf with me a handful of times a year and, to my surprise, she told me in November of 2022 that she actually finally enjoyed playing 18 holes with me (once in awhile).
Through three years of high school golf and, sadly, three separate coaches, she struggled to find her groove. She showed flashes of brilliance, and is actually one of the best lag putters from 30+ feet I know. However, it always seemed one part of her game would collapse and, although she showed improvement, I know she never put it all together. We set goals and stretch goals and, in her final match in 2023, she finally achieved her stretch goal we had set for her high school career. This Bandon trip was (in part) an acknowledgement for my daughter's hard work, who graduated high school the week before and I wanted to give her a chance to play some of the best golf courses in America, with Sheep Ranch being the one golf course I knew set up well for her game (wide fairways, no bunkers and tough greens that require good lag putting). We set up that day to be a golf round that my wife, who does not golf, would also walk with us.
Then, fate set in. As mentioned in part 1 of this series, I hurt my back the afternoon before at Bandon Trails. By the time I gave up on sleep around 5am, it was looking bad as lifting my right arm was not an option. Knowing they had a massage center, I called and, of course, they basically said they were booked but that I could walk over there when it opened and see if anybody opened up a slot. They mentioned that one masseuse, an older lady, only did 1 massage a day but might be willing to help me. So, I left my sleeping family at 7am (our tee time was at 10:10am) and walked over there. The receptionist said there was little hope but I asked her to just see if the lady would talk to me. Around 7:45am she did. To my surprise, she was indeed older and explained how/why she does one a day. I basically fell on the mercy of the court, explained my issue and a brief version of this story and she agreed to at least see the extent of the issue and she'd let me know if there was any point in trying. Sometime between there and getting on the massage table I found out that she shares a first name (Patricia) and an age (undisclosed as I know the rules) as my mother. This sealed the deal and she took pity on me, found the knot and then proceeded to beat the crap out of me for 30 minutes (in a good way). By the end, we had discussed much, I had given her my mother's contact information (they eventually exchanged letters) and my back actually felt better as the golf ball sized knot felt more like a pea. By the time I got back to the room and woke up the family, I could raise my arm again and even give a ginger swing of the golf club. My trip and plan was saved, thanks to Pat being as close to a selfless angel as I've met in a long time. I didn't even care if I played well, because I knew my family day was restored.
Now for the payoff to the story. My back kept feeling better and better. Although I was visibly bruised and very sore, by the time I got through a couple of golf holes, and a few advil, I could swing easily. That, combined with a little extra focus, led me to a shocking 75, my low on this golf course. But, that's the icing on the cake. The other side story, which might normally be the lead story, is that my son played very well and shot what ended up being his low round with me ever, 85, which, as outlined in a previous blog, only happily lasted for 24 hours.
Then there is my daughter. After years of effort, training, patience (even when it didn't seem very patient to her), some disappointment, and ultimately perseverance, my golf dream for her came true. Not only did we get a bluebird day, but she finally found out what it was like to piece it all together for 18 holes. She broke 100 for the first time, counting all her strokes, joining the ranks of golfers worldwide who dream of that feat. Not only did she do that, but she crushed that barrier, finishing with a 94.
I can say that I held it together and didn't cry, but I will also forever say, that my father pride and joy was so strong that I very much wanted to and still want to while writing this. Having my wife with us that day, encouraging my daughter to focus along the way was also key in this round, as she has been central to helping my daughter grow into the awesome college student she is today.
This is a great story where the day was saved by an act of kindness from a stranger, not even knowing how impactful it was, just doing what helpful to another. Thanks to Pat's help, no matter what happens in the future with our individual golf games or even if we ever go out as a full family to a golf course ever again, nobody can take away from us the joy that exuded from the round of golf played at Sheep Ranch between 10am and 2pm on May 29, 2024.
When my daughter was younger, she exhibited strong talent for golf but, like so many others of her generation, struggled with doing anything consistently for 5 hours and, thus, not wanting to embitter her against the game, I begrudgingly stopped pushing her to play it with the hopes that she might pick it up again. In high school, when given a "choice" of which sport to play, she did just that and ended up playing three years of varsity golf. It helped that matches were only 9 holes, but I spent three years also helping to build her confidence, pay for lessons and generally give her mental advice as all golfers struggle in that regard. For my part, I was able to get her to golf with me a handful of times a year and, to my surprise, she told me in November of 2022 that she actually finally enjoyed playing 18 holes with me (once in awhile).
Through three years of high school golf and, sadly, three separate coaches, she struggled to find her groove. She showed flashes of brilliance, and is actually one of the best lag putters from 30+ feet I know. However, it always seemed one part of her game would collapse and, although she showed improvement, I know she never put it all together. We set goals and stretch goals and, in her final match in 2023, she finally achieved her stretch goal we had set for her high school career. This Bandon trip was (in part) an acknowledgement for my daughter's hard work, who graduated high school the week before and I wanted to give her a chance to play some of the best golf courses in America, with Sheep Ranch being the one golf course I knew set up well for her game (wide fairways, no bunkers and tough greens that require good lag putting). We set up that day to be a golf round that my wife, who does not golf, would also walk with us.
Then, fate set in. As mentioned in part 1 of this series, I hurt my back the afternoon before at Bandon Trails. By the time I gave up on sleep around 5am, it was looking bad as lifting my right arm was not an option. Knowing they had a massage center, I called and, of course, they basically said they were booked but that I could walk over there when it opened and see if anybody opened up a slot. They mentioned that one masseuse, an older lady, only did 1 massage a day but might be willing to help me. So, I left my sleeping family at 7am (our tee time was at 10:10am) and walked over there. The receptionist said there was little hope but I asked her to just see if the lady would talk to me. Around 7:45am she did. To my surprise, she was indeed older and explained how/why she does one a day. I basically fell on the mercy of the court, explained my issue and a brief version of this story and she agreed to at least see the extent of the issue and she'd let me know if there was any point in trying. Sometime between there and getting on the massage table I found out that she shares a first name (Patricia) and an age (undisclosed as I know the rules) as my mother. This sealed the deal and she took pity on me, found the knot and then proceeded to beat the crap out of me for 30 minutes (in a good way). By the end, we had discussed much, I had given her my mother's contact information (they eventually exchanged letters) and my back actually felt better as the golf ball sized knot felt more like a pea. By the time I got back to the room and woke up the family, I could raise my arm again and even give a ginger swing of the golf club. My trip and plan was saved, thanks to Pat being as close to a selfless angel as I've met in a long time. I didn't even care if I played well, because I knew my family day was restored.
Now for the payoff to the story. My back kept feeling better and better. Although I was visibly bruised and very sore, by the time I got through a couple of golf holes, and a few advil, I could swing easily. That, combined with a little extra focus, led me to a shocking 75, my low on this golf course. But, that's the icing on the cake. The other side story, which might normally be the lead story, is that my son played very well and shot what ended up being his low round with me ever, 85, which, as outlined in a previous blog, only happily lasted for 24 hours.
Then there is my daughter. After years of effort, training, patience (even when it didn't seem very patient to her), some disappointment, and ultimately perseverance, my golf dream for her came true. Not only did we get a bluebird day, but she finally found out what it was like to piece it all together for 18 holes. She broke 100 for the first time, counting all her strokes, joining the ranks of golfers worldwide who dream of that feat. Not only did she do that, but she crushed that barrier, finishing with a 94.
I can say that I held it together and didn't cry, but I will also forever say, that my father pride and joy was so strong that I very much wanted to and still want to while writing this. Having my wife with us that day, encouraging my daughter to focus along the way was also key in this round, as she has been central to helping my daughter grow into the awesome college student she is today.
This is a great story where the day was saved by an act of kindness from a stranger, not even knowing how impactful it was, just doing what helpful to another. Thanks to Pat's help, no matter what happens in the future with our individual golf games or even if we ever go out as a full family to a golf course ever again, nobody can take away from us the joy that exuded from the round of golf played at Sheep Ranch between 10am and 2pm on May 29, 2024.
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