Gotta Hit the Golf Course to Get Some Peace of Mind

Golf was never something I thought I’d take up. Growing up, my family never played. My dad had a set of clubs, sure, but I think in my childhood I saw him take them out less times than I have fingers. It was a game that, conceptually, I always found silly, and entirely based on ego. Sure, sports edits centered around professionals like Tiger Woods and John Daly would show up on my instagram feed from time to time, but edits centered around Lionel Messi would pop up too, and I don’t really like soccer that much. So… why is golf the topic of this article?

That question’s answer began over a year ago, in Moline, Illinois. See, my grandfather, Bill (hence my namesake) was an orthopedic surgeon, one of the best specialists in the Quad Cities. For years, he’d repair joints, ligaments, and bones with steady hands and nerves of steel. An anecdote of his that I love to retell is that he once had a plane ticket. The destination on that ticket changes every time the story gets told, however the seat doesn’t. He had an economy class ticket to another city, where he was needed to perform an emergency surgery. When he arrived at his gate, the flight attendant informed him that there was no room on the plane for him, despite having loaded his checked bag already. They were already prepared to comp his seat and upgrade his ticket to first class on the next flight out. For anyone else, this would have been a no-brainer. Getting to sit in the first class lounge and drink free champagne would entice almost anyone to take that deal and let their bag sit around for a few hours. Except for Dr. Bill Dougherty. 

Grandpa’s checked bag wasn’t an ordinary piece of luggage. As he explained to the flight attendant, that bag didn’t contain clothes, jewelry, or family heirlooms. It contained something much more valuable. In it, was a few pounds of dry ice…and a human knee. Neither the bag, nor the patient, had a few hours to sit around. The emergency surgery he was called in to perform needed to happen that afternoon, with both my Grandpa and the spare knee intact. As you can imagine, that first class upgrade that came with waiting became rather immediate. He flew to his destination in first class, (sans champagne) arrived on time, and performed the surgery with no more hiccups. 

“Hey, this article is supposed to be about golf,” you’re thinking. “Why are you talking about your grandfather and his, rather gross, profession?” 

Well reader, it’s because everyone needs a hobby. And Grandpa’s hobby came from Scotland. For decades, my Grandpa would spend weekends, days off, and take trips to play one of the oldest games to come out of Europe, Golf. He loves golf, and for years he even had a vacation home in Florida that neighbored a lovely course. He has had many sets of clubs over the years, and while he can’t really play anymore, he still loves the sport. 

This is where I come in. Last summer, I visited my grandparents for a weekend after I graduated college, and before I started my first job. I was mostly there to act as muscle while helping them move some things around their house and assisting them to reorganize their basement storage. While performing the latter, I noticed a set of clubs sitting in the corner. The case was black with blue accents, and had his country club’s insignia on the bottom pouch. Out of curiosity, I asked if he still played, and he answered no. Before I could even begin my next sentence, he told me I could take the set if I wanted them. 

I hadn’t even considered it at this point. I had always thought golf was the stereotypical “douchey rich guy’s sport.” In network television, a reliable way to make a character unlikeable is by having them either be really good at golf, making them a smug and cocky person, or really bad at golf and expressing their frustrations loudly and with expletive language. So at first, I was skeptical about taking them. Then, I thought about it. I was entering the workforce, and everyone’s heard the phrase, “all the real business happens out on the course.” So I figured, what the hell? Maybe I’d never use them, but it’d be good to have them around. 

They stood in my garage for the entirety of last summer, last fall, the following winter and spring, and most of this summer. Until about a month and a half ago, the clubs sat collecting dust. However, that all changed once my friends David (the same amateur MMA gladiator previously mentioned on this blog) and Jordan asked if I wanted to play a round of golf with them on a fair Monday afternoon in August.

At this point, I’d been out of a job for almost 5 months. I was in a rut, doing the same thing day in, day out. Apply for some jobs, reach out to people in order to network with them, go to the gym, come home, and either read or keep at it with my search. All of my time was spent inside, which is a waste during the summer. They had asked me a few times in the year prior, and for some reason, I finally folded. I was expecting to pay at least $100 just to miss the ball or slice it every time, but I only ended up paying around $30. We got to the public course, strapped our bags to the golf carts, and tee’d up on the first hole. 

*THWACK*

I kept my eye on the ball. I hit it with force and a good tempo on my swing. I felt like I’d hit a pure swing, and followed the ball. I watched it soar, going, going, going…right into the trees. Hmmph. Not exactly what I was expecting, but hey, not one person on the planet is ever good at something on the first try. Oh well. I was smart enough to buy a pack of used balls at the clubhouse before the round, which was the right decision. I dropped down next to Jordan, and proceeded to get slightly better with each swing. Admittedly, I knew almost nothing about the sport, so I had to ask my friends which club to use, how to adjust my swing, and avoid slicing or chunking the ball, all on the fly. I ended up losing 9 of the 12 balls I’d purchased. Yeesh. 

Then, a miracle happened. On the 14th hole of the course, I somehow drove the middle of the fairway. I got some compliments, but considering the fact that I had only hit the ball about 150 yards, no one was extremely impressed. However, from the fairway, I was advised to use my 9 Iron. David adjusted my stance and told me to move closer to the ball. I took the step, wound up, and compressed the club into the ball. Once again, my eyes never left the ball, and this time I got to watch it soar in a beautiful inverted parabola. Assisted by gravity, my ball had found the green. 

I was going to make Par. 

On my first round of golf, ever, I was two putts away from making Par. I hadn’t felt this good in months, and David and Jordan were jumping for joy. They couldn’t believe I’d hit such a swell shot. Jokes were made. Beginner’s luck had to play a part right? Could it have been the genetics of Grandpa Bill? We didn’t know, but it felt great. I was hooked. 

From here we approached the green. I tapped my ball too soft and came up short. No worries, the ball was too far from the hole to even consider a birdie, but Par was in sight. I geared up again, took a breath, and then tapped the ball once more on the exhale… 

Shit. 

Way too much kinetic energy transferred from my putter to the ball, and the reused ball, which I specifically recall being stamped with the Swiss Miss hot chocolate logo, for some reason, rolled down the sloped green and rested a few inches from the hole. Oh well. I was happy with the bogey. I swung well, and I was just happy that I was truly enjoying myself. I had a great time with my friends, and I knew I'd found a skill I’ll consistently try to improve upon well into my golden years. 

Since that humid Monday in August, I’ve played 2 and a half more rounds. Twice at a course in Bensenville, and a round at a 9 hole course local to me. I’ve been playing better and better, and I’m getting way more comfortable around the game. I also love going to the driving range. The one I frequent has a top tracer, (for those unaware, this system essentially tracks the trajectory, distance, and speed of the ball. Think TopGolf, but not as pretentious) which has helped me improve my swing and stance immensely. 

Like lifting, golf is a hobby that I never thought I’d take up. It’s interesting how life decides to throw a curveball your way here and there. Hobbies like this open doors to places you wouldn’t expect to find yourself, introduce you to new personalities, and generally just makes you proud that you’ve gotten better at something since the last time you tried it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m nowhere near as good as a professional, or even as good as my friend Jordan, who’s been playing and improving for almost 3 years. But I still really like it, and I’m grateful that I was encouraged to try it. 

I’m also extremely grateful to my grandfather for giving me the clubs. They’re probably a little too short for me, yet I refuse to buy a new set. That is, in part, due the sentimental value that comes with them, but also because a new set of clubs is like $7,000. That being said, I think it’s helped me get closer to my grandpa. When I called him a few days after that first round, and explained how much I enjoyed myself, I could hear in his voice that he was over the moon. We talked for almost a half hour, discussing how certain tweaks can send your ball straight, or slice it like a pizza. He explained why and when to use certain clubs, (I’m a big fan of his TaylorMade 4 wood) and that the short game will always be the most frustrating part of the sport. The game provided me with a great way to reconnect with my grandpa, and I’m elated that makes him happy. 

Now that the season is coming to a close, I’m a little sad that practice will be confined to the range, or possibly a simulator if there’s one in my vicinity, but I’m still incredibly excited to keep playing. I have a ton of friends who like the game, and once I get a little better, I think I’ll be able to provide some reliable competition moving forward. If we’ve talked about playing in the future, you know who you are. Be ready. 

That’s about all I have to say on this matter. I know that golf is like the pinnacle of “entitled person” competition, but it truly is a fun game. As I told my Dad after my most recent 18 holes, I’m still learning. However, now I know that there are few sounds more appealing than the Ping of a perfect drive, and I’ll be chasing that high I got when I hit the 9 Iron directly onto the green during my first round for a long time. Thanks for reading.