Yeah, sounds dramatic, I get it…
Let’s go back to 2012 and the start of a hellish trip into separation and eventual divorce. A four year circus needlessly extended by an over-zealous attorney who spent 16 months of discovery to “discover” the deal my ex and I had already agreed to (without his brilliant legal mind) would work. Nicely done, Magellan! Moving on…
Where It All Began
I’ll spare you the gory details, dear reader. Suffice it to say I suddenly found myself quite alone despite a great network of friends who were truly amazing (and still are). But they have their own lives, wives and kiddos. On a whim in fall 2013 I casually mentioned to one of said buds that I felt the urge to grab a beer and try the driving range; my golf experience to that point being a single range trip 10 years prior and the usual putt-putts on vacation. Who knows why I chose the range? By chance I had driven past the local facility after a business meeting but I often went that route and barely noticed it was there. But in the emptiness after a tough day that long curve of bays filled with people swinging their clubs in the afternoon sun looked damn appealing, and something just clicked. Hell, maybe just the chance to hit things with sticks was enough to pique the desire.
The troops were quickly assembled, myself and three compadres who would later be named “The Four Horsemen” by one of the wives, a moniker that’s stuck to this day. Our occasional evening excursions being billed “Gentlemen’s Summits” which was just a nice way to say we’d either go bowling or to the range. Over time the lanes were largely replaced with the range (or the links), fresh air and wearing our own shoes being two nice advantages.
Fast-forward to early 2014. I learned the first of many great lessons about golf. That being the instant you mention you want to really take a swing at it (sorry, dad jokes are required here at TDZ) clubs appear out of thin air. It was amazing; “catch me after the PTO meeting, I have a driver for you”, “You have to try this putter”, “I just got fitted for irons, take my old clubs”, it just went on and on and I’m glad to say I’m now one of those handing down clubs with one exception; I keep my original hand-me-down 6 iron in the trunk, that club is family.
So as the Northern Virginia spring took hold I was set with a respectable bag filled with Adams irons and hybrids, a Taylor-Made driver and an (originally) overpriced putter, some exotic brand that eludes memory with a head I constantly had to tighten. But who cared? I had STICKS and thanks to Craigslist a Callaway stand bag. As Michael Breed would say, “let’s do this!” I quickly found a routine, dropping my kids off at school, grab Dunkin’ then hit the range. Rain, shine, really didn’t matter, a typical AM being the 90 ball bucket. A couple of the Horsemen laughing at how I’d gone from “wanna try the range” to the employees worried if I wasn’t there for a daily session. My range-rat tendencies would later be the origin of my nickname “Jimmy Buckets”, bestowed by my coach who still calls me that to this day. Hey, I’ve been called worse!
Memorial Day, 2014. My first round. After weeks of hitting mats it was time to really get out there. Nine holes at the same facility and I laugh now that we took a cart! So, how was that first round? Honestly, I don’t remember my score. I just know that the buzz I’d felt those first few months of hitting the range seemed like nothing compared to really being on a course. As we finished number eight it occurred to me there was just one hole left and it felt like the last day of vacation. In short, your boy was hooked and it’s been that way ever since.
Memories are usually more about the happy parts aren’t they? Looking back we laugh but in the moment it can be pretty overwhelming and there was ample despair to go around. There were some truly dark days to come after that first magic round, but golf was always there. So, back to the title of this post. I say golf saved me because I truly believe it did. Would I have found another outlet? I like to think so. But for me golf was the best therapy I can imagine. The mental challenge, sun/rain/wind in my face, the walk, that last putt that damn near rolled in for birdie and sometimes just knocking the hell out of those little balls. There wasn’t one moment that “saved” me, it was lots of little moments, good and bad but they always came back to the site’s slogan; Never. Stop. Grinding . Because there were days when it literally felt life golf was all I had. Golf saved me by giving me a positive place to direct very negative feelings, it gave me a new purpose. The times I couldn’t hit a damn thing taught me to exhale, laugh it off and try again. And the little victories along the way always seemed to come at the times they were needed the most. In short, golf kept me moving forward. One step, one swing, one putt at a time.
Never. Stop. Grinding. In golf and in life.
Hit ’em straight my friends,
