By: Mark McKinney, 2019
An introspective look at the sport that is youth golf – and the emotional story that is painted from each tee box to each landing area where parents wait with bated breath to see their player’s ball land safely – in bounds, on dry land, in a good lie. And as landing area shifts to green complex, the dance begins anew and life’s lessons unfold – each of us and none of us having any power against what is to come – good or bad. And then there is the golfer – who – if he plays poorly is not sure who he has let down – himself, his parents, his coach, his teammates – or no one at all. He wonders if his score is his value, or his value his score. If he only knew, and if we only knew how best to tell him and more importantly, to show him.
Each box tells a story in and of its own Only those who were present will know just what went on.
18 boxes once empty, now one by one are filled some in angst, some in agony, and some are marked in thrill.
Yet, no one not present ever really knew The anxiety that each box held for the athlete and their crew.
Was his heart so fast a beating that he could barely catch his breath? Were his palms so sweaty, his hands so shaky that it must have felt like death?
Or, was his mind so clear, his focus so pure, that failure’s not an option Did he encounter a full onslaught of confidence adoption?
By shot and chip and putt and aim, you count them one by one
Until that ride is over, for a moment still, as that next box is done.
Then comes the next, a different test, another box to fill Who’s more nervous – him or you? Why can’t our hearts be still?
We know the test is where they’re forged, and from where they will emerge If we will just let go and watch as preparation and life converge It hurts to watch them when they fail, we wish that we could fix it But knowing what we know we try to tell them ‘just stick with it”.
A par, a par, and then a bogey, bogey run – you see it on his face and know the battle has begun. Has he failed himself or worse, does he think he just failed me? Oh how I wish that he could look inside and see how proud I be.
We’re halfway through this roller coaster, fatigue is setting in – That’s nine whole boxes, nine short stories and we walk our way towards ten.
The cycle keeps on going – a prayer before each swing – God help him to do HIS best and nothing in between – Don’t protect him from adversity, cause that is where he grows – but when it comes, oh when it comes – please God make sure he knows. That he is stronger than he knows and one day he will see – the giant standing in his shoes – the man he wants to be.
It’s lost so many times, I’m sure, as the boxes slowly fill – that the number in the boxes mean that each of them sure will – surely will miss the walk they share and the laughs and smiles and friendship – for we are so focused on those boxes that we even let out minds slip – ‘you better make that next shot count’ – this is life or death, or is it? As boxes fill and math takes over we let it pave the way – for how we feel about ourselves and how and what we say.
The boxes just keep coming next, the hole count getting higher … the pencil marks are more and more, each tested by the fire. A tick mark here, a dot mark here to keep up with the day– but again for those that were not here, they’ll never know the way – the way that 4 should have been a 6 if not for lucky bounces – or how that 6 could have been a 4, in other circumstances.
Each box, it holds a story, one eighteenth of a play – whose script is never written until the very day – until he steps upon that tee and grasps his trusty pen – and with heart a pounding, eyes ‘a-glaze, sets it to paper once again. No script is ever quite the same – the twists and turns are special – some scripts are like a love story when everything goes right – and some are like a horror movie, where all there die that night.
But regardless of the story, once told it’s told and sealed – for as the paper shows you, all the boxes are filled. And in each box, the lessons taught lie dormant there in wait – to see if he will take that box, and use it to be great. Will he learn the lesson that God set upon his path – that He wove in from the very start, and disguised as simple math.
We mustn’t lose our sight along each 300 minute journey – we mustn’t think that all our worth is tied up in a tourney. It’s easy as a parent, a coach and as a player – to see success or failure as a life affirming layer – that if we win or play our best that somehow we are better – but tomorrow holds another script, whose boxes are unfettered. So careful must we be to never lose our focus – that this great game is just a game – and not let it define us.
Cause win or lose, succeed or fail in how he fills those boxes – it’s our job as a parent to know, just what the true life crux is. That our job is to love him and to never let him doubt, that this does not define his worth – that’s not what it’s about. It’s on us as his parents to help him clearly know, that the filling of the boxes – is how he learns to grow. That he is stronger than he knows and one day he will see – the giant standing in his shoes – the man he soon will be.