My Dad was an avid golfer. My exposure to the game came via his desire to share his passion and love for the game with my brother and me. I remember vividly, during those impressionable early teenage years, hearing my Dad get up before dawn on Saturdays. He was leaving the comfort of our Redondo Beach home after a long week of work, headed to to one of two places: Los Verdes Golf Course or Long Beach “Rec”, as we knew it – two local public golf courses nearby. I look back at that time with some surprise that golf was as popular as it was, more than 40 years ago. So popular, in fact, that even then the challenge of getting next week’s tee time was complicated enough that his ritual included getting to the course for this week’s round in the wee hours and sleeping in his car so that he could be among the first to book next week’s tee time. It was during this era that Dad would, from time to time, ask my older brother Randy and me to join him for a round of golf.
We were reluctant participants, I’m sad to say. In hindsight, my dad was simply combining his love for golf with his desire to be with his sons. We, on the other hand, had our own passion. Surfing, which is a whole other source of inspiration and insight about life, but that’s for another time and maybe another book. One thing about surfing worth noting now, however, is that you back then, you never knew when the surf was going to be good. Today, it’s different. With technology, science and the internet, you know when the surf’s coming – and whether or not it will be good or not – days in advance. But back then, it was pretty much a crap shoot. This uncertainty about the surf conditions created a non-committal spirit in those of us who lived to surf. If you made plans and the surf came up, you were doomed. So the natural alternative was simply not to make any plans…just in case. Interestingly, I remain reluctant to making plans to this day, to the chagrin of many, and I attribute it at least partially to the engrained need for freedom in case there was surf, more than anything else. It was for this reason, and this reason only, that my brother Randy and I were begrudging participants in a round of golf with Dad. Contrary to surfing, golf required planning and commitment.
Looking back at those times and the wonderful childhood I was provided, I don’t have many regrets, but I do wish I had the understanding and wisdom that comes with age back when I was 12 or 13. If I did, I likely would’ve seen the wisdom of doing with my Dad what he most loved to do rather than focusing only on what I wanted to do. We did get out to golf, though. And as I reflect on those times, I realize that even then, the mysteries of golf were upon me. Dad would do his best to offer friendly advice to us, and we would do our best to take it. But, in hindsight, I now realize that those times offered my first real exposure to this great game and all that it encompasses. Life was simple back then, but the game wasn’t. Didn’t seem like it should be all that tough, but then – and now – it gets the best of most everyone in its grip. And it rarely lets go.
Shortly before we lost my Dad to waning health, my son and I got to play what turned out to be the last 18 holes of golf Dad would be able to play. He was in good form that day, and was fully immersed in the round. He beat us both soundly. He was full of life, joy and spunk, thoroughly enjoying the drubbing he was handing us. When we got to the 17th hole – a long narrow par 5 – he nailed his drive down the middle, then banged a fairway wood deep down the fairway. Perfectly positioned for his approach shot on this rugged hole, Dad, at 84 years old, looks over at me with an amused, gratified look and mockingly says “I think I finally just figured this game out”. 60 years of playing the game, and he was celebrating the discovery and sense of hope that comes with every round of golf. Isn’t it the same in life? Far too often, and tragically so, we figure out how to play the game when there’s very little game left in us. That kills me. What a gift we could give if we could help others “figure out the game” sooner than later? Whether in life or in golf, there are too many moments before us to let the outcome rob us of the journey. And while figuring either out is an endless proposition, it sure can be fun trying. Thank you Dad, for introducing us to a game that you loved so dearly. And given how well you played on your final round, I’m pretty sure you were right – you had finally figured it out.