 |
| Back (L-R) Jerry Collins, Rick Chamberlain, Kenny Haney, Dennis Ferguson, me; Front (L-R) Tom Benjamin, Jeff Gorsuch, Todd Kinder |
I had 245 yards to the middle of the green on the par-5 final hole, from a lie that was a little on the upslope, with a slight wind coming from the right. Though my team had gone 1-up two holes earlier, which gave us comfort, our opponents came charging back and now our 4-man scramble grudge match was all square.
As the tension filled the air, you’d have thought we were playing for $1 million. But it was for much, much more than that. We play for bragging rights.
This is the year most of us turned 60, but for the moment it was like we were 15 again, in the gym, playing to 21 and having to win by 2. We have been lifelong friends, through thick and thin, guys who will come running if ever there is a need for a helping hand, but make no mistake that when there is a game going and some serious competition is on the line — we want nothing more than to stomp one another.
The trash talk is unbearable. Losing is terrible. We all hate it more than anything.
So I knew I had to reach back for everything I’ve got to reach this green in two. Up ahead, our opponents had a much easier second shot, which brought a 3 into the picture for them. For us to have any chance at all of winning, or at least tying, I had to come through in the clutch.
I pulled out my 3-wood. And I put the best swing on a golf ball I could muster.
Oh, wait a second, you think this is a golf story?
…
AS THIS TITANIC struggle played out, the sun was setting. This has always been my favorite time of every day, much better than the sunrise because, let’s face it, who wants to be up at such an hour?
The day’s work is done, and the promise of tomorrow lies ahead. When Kim and I are near an ocean, we make sure we have dinner as the sun slides over the skyline. The same is true when my dog Kobe drags me through the neighborhood on our evening walk. And then there are always these special times on a golf course.
I think the sunset is a reminder that for all of life’s difficulties, with crazy events and busy schedules and difficult people, the world is also a beautiful place. Without having to do a single thing, or pay any kind of price, we get this front row seat from anywhere in the world to watch God show off by painting a masterpiece.
So it’s not a coincidence that many of my favorite moments I’ve captured in a photograph — like the one above — all have a setting sun somewhere in the distance.
We need a moment of peace every day.
Because peace brings hope.
And we can never have too much hope.
So do you think this is just a story about sunsets? Nah, I couldn’t leave you hanging.
…
WHEN THE BALL LEFT my club, I knew I had hit it well. I stayed in perfect balance and knew instantly I had hit the ball in the center of the club head. “Oh boy,” I thought.
Oftentimes, when a ball flies squarely into the middle of a setting sun, you are blinded, and have no idea where it is going. But for some reason, I saw this shot easily, like it was in slow motion, hanging forever in the sky.
Though I am capable of so many awful golf shots, the kind that would make you think I have never played before and should never play again, this was not one of them. It started just to the right of the green and came hooking back, like something in a hokey movie.
It came to rest 15 feet left of the pin. That meant would have our chance for an eagle, and put some serious pressure on our opponents.
It was a moment I will long remember, certainly in February when it is five below. I was with a great group of guys, miles away from work pressures and house payments and the coronavirus, having a total blast just underneath a setting sun.
It was magnificent. What a shot.
And then it all came crashing down.
Moments later, after Todd Kinder had hit a drive that traveled what seemed like 50 miles of Texas highway, Dave Baker hit a second shot to within 10 feet and then Ricky Chamberlain made the putt. Somewhere in all of that, I’m sure Tom Benjamin — the coach, the master, and the legend — orchestrated the effort.
So we got beat. I had Mark Kennard, Dave Chicarelli, and Jerry Collins on my team. We were crushed, heartbroken, and humiliated. Come to think of it, it may have been one of the worst moments of my life.
Actually, I don’t know why I brought it up.
Just forget I said anything, okay?
I should have just written this story about the stupid sunsets.
Whatever.
 |
| Back (L-R) Jerry Collins, Dave Baker, me, Mark Kennard, Rick Chamberlain, Dave Chicarelli Front (L-R) Tom Benjamin, Todd Kinder |