I played golf with some new friends earlier this week. I’ve joined a drop-in league. The name comes from the fact you play whatever week you wish without the commitment of a weekly match. It’s a nice format for the summer. You play against a single opponent whose handicap is similar to yours. Mine is eight and my opponent, Chris, was a nine. It’s match play format, meaning you play hole by hole. Each hole is worth two points and the overall lowest score is awarded two additional. A total of twenty points are available.
On about the fifth hole I gave Chris a two foot putt. When I told him to “Pick it up.”, he said, “Are you sure?” My reply was “Yes.” We ended up tying the hole and splitting the two points. Our exchange reminded me of a similar conversation I had with a young golfer a few years back.
My partner and I were playing a father and son team at The Grande in Jackson. My partner played the dad, Tom, and I was matched with the son. On about the third hole I told “John” that his putt was good. He asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Two holes later I gave him a second putt. “Are you sure?”, he asked again.
“Yes.”
On the next hole, I gave him a third putt. Again John asked, “Are you sure?”
I was getting perturbed with his constant checking so this time I said, “Yes, but if I give you another putt, and you ask if I’m sure again, you’re going to putt everything out. There will be no more concessions.”
Sure enough I gave him a twelve inch putt on the very next hole. Once again he asked, “Are you sure?” This time I followed through with my warning. “No. Putt it out.” So he did. It took him three putts, back and forth across the original twelve inches, but he finally holed it out.
We drove to the next hole, a 165 yard parr three over a swamp. John’s shot landed in the swamp while the other three landed on, or near, the green. As I was walking towards my ball to make my second shot, I looked to see where the other three were standing. I expected to see John in the “drop zone” preparing for his chip to the green. He wasn’t there. I looked around and saw him walking up a hill with his golf bag slung over his shoulder. He quit and walked away.
I turned to his dad and said, “If he’s quitting because of me, I’m sorry.”
His dad’s reply was straight forward. “He’s just a hot head. You didn’t do anything. You were more patient than I would have been. You warned him and followed through. Good for you.”
I’ve been playing golf for over fifty years and that was the only time that anyone quit during a round. I’ve had players who were unhappy with their play, some even threatened to quit, others have picked up and moved on to the next hole, but no one quit until that day. It reminded me of kids who quit games in my youth. They’d pack up and go home rather than face defeat.
Life is not like that. My dad taught me you don’t just quit because things don’t go your way. You do your best to be better. Losing is not fun, but it’s a part of life. When things get difficult, dig down, suck it up, and keep moving forward. That’s how I was taught to live. I’m very sure of that.