Thank You, Bob
Filed in archive Golf Wanderings by Chris Henry on August 7, 2007
My wife and I took my 82 year old father-in-law out to play 9 holes. Bob has been an avid golfer all his life, a former champion at his club in Toronto and in Palm Desert where he and his wife lived for about 10 years after retiring.
But kidney disease has put Bob on a dialysis machine three times a week for five hours at a time. He's frail and skinny as a rail.
However, his mind still works and he knows he still loves the game.
All the way to the course Bob commented about how beautiful the countryside was, how lovely and blue the sky was, what a wonderful day it was to play golf.
We arrived at our chosen location, a pretty and very hilly 9-hole track that boasts some exceptional views on holes with higher elevations. Indeed, it is a lovely little course.
But I began to focus on how many ball marks were unrepaired on the greens, how hard the sand was in the traps and what mistakes I was making in my swing.
Bob, on the other hand, would drop his ball on the tee, take a couple of short, relaxed backswings, mutter once or twice, "now don't try to kill it, Bob" and then swing. His shots were very short - he has so little strength, these days - but he made contact and the ball went straight down the middle.
Stepping out of the cart at one particular green, Bob said to Wendy, my wife, "this is a dream come true. I can't believe I'm doing this".
You see, Bob didn't care how well he hit the ball. He didn't have a goal of shooting a number. His aim was accomplished every time he looked around at the golf course
that surrounded him, every time he stepped out of the cart and drew a club from his bag, every time he shuffled onto a green with his putter and stroked the ball toward the cup.Bob was playing golf again. And that's all that mattered.
Me? I struggled on some holes and beat myself up, did very well on other holes and berated myself for not doing better.
In other words, I didn't play golf. I "worried and fretted" golf.
Bob played golf. And he loved it.
He played like it was the last time he would ever play.
I hope to God it isn't; he's a very good teacher.
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