I beat my dad in golf the other day.
On a short par three at the local golf course, I hit a beautiful nine iron pin high that landed about six feet past the hole. My dad, an above average scratch golfer countered with a bit more errant tee shot that landed to the left of the green in the rough. Chipping out of the rough, my father missed the green again and had to settle for a three putt that put him at five strokes for the hole, or plus two strokes overall.
This was my chance, the chance all boys dream of; the day they finally beat their dad in something meaningful. With nerves of Jell-O, I moved over my putt with shaking arms and sweat dripping down my face. I lined up the putt, brought my putter back and let forth the smoothest stroke I could muster.
Before I continue with my story, I think a little backstory is needed to explain why this was such a big event to me.
My dad and I have been playing golf together for years. I've never once beat him on a hole. He's always been more athletic than me, playing point guard in college, QB in high school, throwing multiple no hitters in little league; while I on the other hand rode the bench in basketball and football in high school and had a decent, yet unspectacular career in high school baseball.
We've both loved golf from an early age, and as all fathers do, my dad passed on his love of the game to me. So finally after 10 years of playing rounds of golf together, this one putt would potentially change everything in our father/son relationship.
Slowly the dimpled ball rolled towards the cup. What seemed like a lifetime to me, I’m sure happened in an instant; the ball calmly dropped down in the center of the cup and I had done the impossible; I had beaten my father.
I had crossed the final frontier. I mean, that is the holy grail of a young man’s life right? The day you final defeat you father in a sport you both enjoy? If that’s the case, why did the feeling of joy, like the moment of the putt dropping in the hole, only last a second? Shouldn’t I have felt a wave of joy and accomplishment like no other before it?
I have my theories of course as to why I wasn’t overwhelmed by the moment… Maybe it was because I am 23 years old, and beating my father, now 52, does not hold as much weight as it would have when I was in my early teens. Or maybe it’s because as time has passed, I, like all others have unfortunately begun to see my father as not a god like I once thought, but just another man trying to do the best he can with what he has been given.
Whatever the case, I have finally beaten my dad in something we both enjoy. The moment may have lasted an instant; but the look of pride on his face will be a memory I hold on to for a life time.
