I watched my son this weekend play golf in an under 16 California tournament this weekend.
It was nerve wracking, exciting, grueling, and extremely fun and satisfying.
I have a new respect for any person that plays regular tournament golf.
Max is 16 and has been golfing hard now for 3 years. He is a 4 handicap. I have been playing 37 years and am a 6 handicap. He now beats me most times.
This weekend he invited me not just to drive him the hour to the course, but to stay. I was torn. I knew it would be a long day and I was not sure what it would be like watching my son under pressure. How would I fit in with those damn Tiger parents? Was I supposed to run to next hole if he missed a short putt? Was I to make eye contact? Shrug my shoulders? Tell him to Uber home? Was I to ‘woot woot’ if he made a great approach shot?
None of the other parents cared what I did actually. They did not say hi. I was saying hi to everyone. I was the new guy obviously. Note to self – the hip parents bring umbrellas for the SUN.
When Max birdied a tough par 3 from just over the green and I lost my shit. I ran up and paparazzi’d him:
Max has one of those swings that is perfect to watch. On plane, consistent ball striking and creative around the green with the wedges. Watching him from the parents area was not as hard as I thought. You could not tell he was nervous. Max actually loves the intensity and people watching.
On the back 9 he found himself in trouble just once after thinning a green side bunker shot (he’s great from the bunkers) that shot past the green, hit the cart path and disappeared down a hill behind a tree. The type of shot that leads to an 8 or 10. I could not watch. He hit this flop shoot from the rough over a tree to 20 feet and two putted for a 6. Yes a double bogey, but not an 8 or 10 like it could have easily been.
At the end of the day, he shook hands with the other 3 boys in his group, he posted his score, finished middle of the pack and checked the standings from his iPhone while we were eating pizza an hour later to let me know a kid shot 65-67 (yes 12 under par) to win the tournament. I am sure the kid is wonderful, but I hate his parents.