Golfer's apology

This might be a tough one for me to write. I am going to be opening up a part of me that I am not real proud of and probably exposing a weakness that I am not too happy with. At the same time, I am probably going to open some wounds for a select few that have had the "pleasure" of witnessing some of the moments I am going to talk about here. Read on with a forgiving heart.

I can't remember when it first happened. I am sure someone can, but I don't even care when or how. It happened. I became competitive. Not competitive in the sense that I liked to compete, but in the sense that I demanded perfection from a game that does not offer it. At this point, hitting the fairway was no longer good enough. Hitting greens was no longer good enough. Holing putts, as silly as this will sound, was no longer good enough. They have to hit the fairway with the right shape and trajectory and they had to go in the center of the hole....anything else was just not good enough.

It was at this point that I discovered frustration and anger. I figured that if I tried harder, perfection was attainable. I figured that if I cared more than the next guy, perfection was attainable. I became a monster. All I cared about on the golf course was making the ball feel perfect off the club face and fly perfect in the air. The problem was, perfection IS unattainable. No amount of caring will overcome that. No amount of practice will nullify the fact that golf is a game that can never be mastered.

Tiger is great, that is without dispute. But Tiger hits "bad" shots. Tiger hits it out in the trees sometimes. Tiger will NEVER shoot an 18. That is perfection isn't it? We can fight and try and practice and cry all we want and 18 will always be the perfection that eludes us. I didn't have that figured out...yet.

So I melted down, often. I beat myself up for shots that I would kill for now. I destroyed my confidence for scores that were competitive and would play in many tournaments. More importantly, I discovered a temper that led to broken clubs, broken friendships, and an embarrassing side of me that has no defense.

So this apology goes to guys like Brad Faller. Brad watched me throw my Ram FX #2 iron down a roadway one day after a shot out of bounds. This goes to Steve Appleton who watched me destroy a cart path curb with a brand new Scotty Cameron TI3 putter. (that putter was resilient let me tell you) This goes out to guys like Corey Brown and Darren Black who tried to wake me up to my shortcomings only to be told "If you don't like it, BUY A HELMET." This goes out to all my teammates over the years. I am sure that a calmer demeanor would have led to lower scores and I know that I cost us some real opportunities. This goes out to the countless playing partners that have had the misfortune of watching this display of garbage.

Most of all, this goes out to my Dad.

Very few moments in my life resonate as much as the silence of my Father on a drive home from the golf course after one my tirades. I remember one more than others where I threw my putter on the 18th hole of a tournament we were playing together. I imagine him having to apologize for me and the feeling he must have felt having to "endorse" my crap behavior, by default.

I would like to say that one incident snapped me out of it and I corrected my ways immediately after...but I can't say that. What I can say is that I have learned, through experience and age, that not only does that kind of behavior hurt my golf game, it hurts the way people look at me. I am "that guy" that might not get a call when the 4-some is one short. I'm "that guy" that you are afraid to approach on hole #3 because a par on #2 somehow was not good enough.

I am what I have allowed myself to be. I am what I have created, needlessly. I am "that guy"

But I can say that I have corrected that. I am making strides to be a better ambassador of this game and a better representative of myself. So I can safely say, to all I have hurt as well as to this game...

I am sorry.