On My Game When It Counted Most

This past Saturday I was up in Seattle for my annual week long summer visit to see the family. My high school was holding it's annual alumni golf tournament the Saturday I was there so my Dad and I signed up (well he signed me up and paid the entrance fee all under my name) and off we went for an 18-hole scramble. The 20th Claude Johnson Memorial Golf Tournament, by the way I was one of the few at the event who actually played for Claude when he was the Lakeside golf coach, was held at a private course owned by a significant Seattle area and school family. It's their own private course with it's own maintenance staff. The course, in the town of Arlington/Lake Stevens is about a 40 minute drive northeast of Seattle.

My Dad and I were paired with an alum from the class of 1968 and his friend. We trekked out to the 9th tee and started our round there. This being my first round of the 2009 calendar year, one can imagine that I was rusty. I didn't contribute to the group score until the 3rd hole. However, as the round progressed, I got back in the groove and with the increasing inebriation of our playing partners, my Dad and I began making the shots and drives our group ended up using.

The big moments of the day happened first on the par 3 1st hole, which for our group was our 11th hole of the day. Lakeside's number 1 alumni cheerleader, and former teacher of mine Bruce Bailey and the alumni office members were sitting and watching groups go by. There was a $10,000 prize for a hole-in-one. I stepped up and hit what turned out to be my best shot of the day. It arced over an tree that hung over the corner of the green and landed some 15 feet from the pin. Bruce pulled out his binoculars to make sure he wasn't going to fork over a bunch of cash. (Before I hit the ball, however, I stated that I would donate the money back to the school.)

Two holes later, Bruce is driving along in a cart and pulls up behind our group which is about to hit our second shot into the 3rd green. My dad and the other two guys of the group spray their shots short and left of the green. I drop my ball, pull out a six-iron. As I'm standing over the ball, I'm thinking about how good it would look to again hit a great shot. The gods were smiling because I nailed a shot that the pros would be happy with. It had perfect arc, was dead on with the flag stick and eventually landed 6 feet from the hole. I got kudos from Bruce.

Who knows if this performance may play in the future when I apply for a job teaching at my alma mater. If not, at least Mr. Lakeside himself thinks I can hit the ball well on the links!