Exemption

There is always a worthwhile lesson in everything we do … and sometimes it is only uncovered at the end of the day story.

When we started all of this I must admit it was more of a content exercise than a challenge if you will. The angle to the story was to participate in the sorts of activities that a touring pro would go through in an attempt to learn and then translate to you, the readers, a little bit about what it takes to compete at an extremely high level of golf.

And we did that ( I hope). The road to Seaforth involved a look at my swing, a look at my equipment, and a few extra nights under the lights at the range. I was prepared in many perspectives. My equipment was fitted and my swing was actually much more consistent than it had ever been. Even the practice round was good. We deciphered the hand written yardage book, perused the terrain, logged some ‘local’ knowledge and looked at a lot of birdie putts. Yes, the practice range was a little intimidating, but out on the course I felt really comfortable.

The Seaforth Golf Course, by standards, is actually a fairly short layout even from the tips. The rough was brutal and penal , what you’d expect for a tour event, yet going in I was hitting it pretty solid and was fairly confident that we could avoid the cabbage and string together a formidable round even under tour circumstances. To provide a little perception, the members informed us, and anyone that would listen, that the rough had not been touched in at least two months (and we’d had our fair share of rain).

No worries though as we could hit irons from many of the tees and had already mapped out our round in a conservative way knowing that my game would be one of fairways and the fat side of greens. In fact prior to the round, seeing as there were only 14 sticks allowed in the bag, I swapped out my 3 iron for a Nike SQ Hybrid. Pretty hard to mis-hit these new fangled, morph-style clubs so I was golden right?

Wrong.

And like the first tee on Thursday, this is where it all gets a little hazy and I’m not even sure how to even begin to tell this story. Truth be known the amount of stuff I learned and the experiences we went through could literally fill a book. There were chapters of things that happened out there. These were the fastest and longest two days I can remember. It was a crash course in professional tour golf without any handbook, manual or even lead time. On the first tee I was happy to pick up a bottle of water, some tees, an apple and –   I felt like the real deal! – until the starter asked me what ball I was playing and whose hat I was wearing and … it was then that I realized, in fact, this was.

Started on the 10th. This meant a 185 yard par 3 up-hill and over water to begin. Ok, not a huge deal. Just a stock 6 iron and solid committed swing. Wish I didn’t eat that apple as I can sense my hands are a little sticky. Deep breath. Remember what Sean Foley told you. Enjoy the experience. Deep Breath. One swing. One stroke. One green in regulation. That’s where I’ll stop the story.

Pressure is an odd thing. At least in the sense that it is for the most part self induced. I like pressure. I played sports and, in particular, hockey throughout my better years. Made it all the way to the OHL and loved the pressure of it all. The adrenalin, the rush, the battle. The difference being that in most sports, hockey being one, you can and must try harder, dig deeper, and make things happen. In tour golf, as I would learn over the course of the next 18 holes, it is just about the exact opposite. The mantra being to relax, swing easy, and take what the course gives you.

Now I know all of this. Just as you probably do too if you have read anything about the game and or caught a broadcast or two on television. And I know that it is no different than any other round. That I am playing the course and not the field. That bad bounces will happen. That the only shot that matters is the next one. Yes, I know all of this, and that, and yet … let’s get back to the story.

So I am on the first green, marked my ball, cleaned it and am away. No rush. Take my time. Read the green (well to the best of my inadequate ability). Place the ball take one last look down the line and … my arms weigh an absolute ton. The feeling has somehow gone from my fingers and it is cool out here, but not that cold. Is that my heart I hear?

What’s the advice? Step away, re-group, take a deep breath, go through your routine again (what routine?, is my playing partner waiting?, the group ahead have all left the next tee, hurry …) One last look. One putt. Halfway to the hole (alright maybe a little bit closer than half but not much). Two more, that’s three and the bogey is attested.

This should be easy but it’s not. It’s really tough.

The score on day one (89) was demoralizing but believe me when I say we made some really good shots and got some really tough breaks. Bottom line was that you need to be absolutely precise when in a tour set-up. There is zero room for error.  A five yard miss in just about any direction is not good enough and will cost you. These guys are just so precise and really control their ball when it comes to trajectory and spin. It was inspiring to watch and I am certainly a better player for the ‘free’ lessons.

And here’s where we’ll leave the story again or at least the scorecard as there was much more to learn for me here.

THE REAL LESSON.

If I learned a thousand things while out on the golf course it took a picture to help write this story. That image was of my caddy (who just so happened to be my father). So when I make the reference to we in this story that’s because the two of us really experienced all of this together. And that was what made it so special.

That’s where the pressure came from. Because I didn’t care whether anybody beat me – of course they were going to. And I am certainly not trying to impress anybody with my short game prowess, I hardly even play. What I thought I didn’t want to do was embarrass myself but it was not until after the event that I realized all I really wanted to do is what all boys want to do – I wanted to play well for my Dad.

And I realized that all he really wanted to do was to do what all good fathers want to do – to be there with and for their son. To offer a little bit of advice here and there, but mostly just to walk alongside and carry the bag.

In the end that is what I’ll remember most from this experience. I’ll remember that for every bad bounce we had a smile and for every bogey recorded we made a friend. And I will always remember my two days at Seaforth for the fun that the two of us had. In fact I took the most strokes of any player there. And that is absolutely ok by me. There really is such a thing as a great bogey. I wish we could have made some more.

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Steve Woods, Contributor at Large

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May Also be of Interest:

• My Exemption
• And I Golf … Kevin Costner
• Between Rounds : a quick conversation with Graham DeLaet
• Hard Work Gets Rewarded
• Fast Greens