A year has passed… and a new outlook has emerged. The junior golfer is now 21. He's experienced more of life. He's worked. He's bought a car with his own money. He’s felt the sweet sting of romantic attachment. And he’s accepted his frailties on the golf course. And needing to maintain the satisfaction that comes with besting the field, has pointed his energies toward other pursuits: entrepreneurship, money, business prestige.
The dream hasn’t been buried, but it has been modified. With maturity has come a new understanding of the world around him and a better understanding of his own limitations. All things may be possible, but they’re not necessarily probable. And that’s where we pick up this story.
His golf career will no longer arc towards the PGA tour. He knows he may never have the game for that level, and more importantly never have the head. But there are still battles to wage, and victories to be had, and coupled with success and satisfaction off the golf course, he seems okay with the trade off. So the outlook is revised, the schedule will be trimmed, but the accidental caddie is not done yet.
Our story resumed last month at the same Terra Cotta Invitational. With a field that included 20 of the top 50 amateurs in the world and about 50 of the top 500, everyone had game. You could have your best game and compete but you were never going to pass the players in this field. This may have been where “we" finally decided to revise “our" goals. And it’s okay.
Now the summer season begins in the Tri-state area (NY, NJ, and CT). First up was the NJ Am Qualifier this past week. How is it that we’re not exempt in these championships? He holds the record for the lowest round in NJ Am history. Never mind, play the qualifier. Going in, we’re just looking to qualify. No point in wasting a 66 that gets reset on the first hole of the championship. Make pars. The number will be plus 4 or 5. Through 15 holes, we’re even. Can’t buy a putt as usual, but we’re cruising. It feels too comfortable. No matter, Luke will hit an approach from 80 years to an impossible lie and we’ll make bogey to shatter our complacency and derail his fluid tee shots. Going into the last hole we’re 3 over.
“What do I need on this hole dad?” Well a par would be nice, but I think even a bogey assures qualification. OK. He tees it up and drives it 280 yards out and about 120 yards left, almost missing the adjacent fairway. We arrive at our ball 200 yards from the green with trees blocking every realistic approach. I suggest putting it back in fairway and making par or bogey from there. But we’re not in “realistic” mode. “I’ll cut a hybrid around those trees.” Really? Good contact but no cut. We’re dead behind the green, behind a mound to a pin two paces on, severely downhill. OK, let’s make bogey and we should be okay.
He pulls out lob wedge, opens it wide, swings it hard, and throws it far in the air. It lands on the fringe and trickles down near the hole. Par. Plus 3. Good, figuring the cut is plus 5. Nope. The cut is plus 3. We’re on the number (again), but we’re in, "just like we planned.”
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