Thoughts on Father's Day - Part 1

Aaaaah June!  Thoughts of trips to the beach, grilling out, putting on the practice green until 8:30 pm, and grads and dads.  Grads and Dads?  Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum!  Grads – full of youthful enthusiasm and the optimistic energy of “I can take on the world” vs. Dads – dodging chores, popping a beer and watching the ball game, falling asleep with the clicker in hand, and the cynical outlook of “I have seen the world and I know it better than you”.  The Blogette’s dad was a cross between Archie Bunker and Happy Days’ Mr. Cunningham.  He was stubborn and smart, methodical and thoughtful.  My sister and I called him the Old Fart – not very respectful, I admit.  I don’t remember what happened the day we were brave enough to say it to his face, but he laughed and agreed, and referred to himself that way on certain occasions after that.  My dad taught me almost everything I know about golf.  He showed me the ropes from a young age.  He taught me how to hold a club, how to fix a ball mark (but not a spike mark until after putting), and how to respect someone else’s lie by not tromping around on it.  He once told my pouting 13-year-old self that I was a pain in the ass.  He was right.  Golfers don’t succeed by pouting, and it did cause me to buckle down and work harder just to show him I could.  At 23, I knew the Rules of Golf better than others in the Ladies Association, but I showed them the respect due to them because they had been there longer than I had.  That’s the way I was taught.  Maybe Dads are not so far from grads, but their diplomas are from the School of Life.  What did your dad teach you? Maybe you were one of the lucky ones, like I was.  At any rate, I’ll bet your dad rescued you too many times to count.  Flat tire?  Dad was a phone call away.  Moving day?  Dad carried those boxes.  Lost the match or the game?  Dad was still proud. The lesson for us is to respect the wisdom of experience whether you are a dad or not, whether you had a good dad or a less-than-perfect one, there is always something to learn from those Old Farts.  My dad loved the old-timers of golf.  As we watched tournaments together, I was always rooting for the young blonde stars like Ben Crenshaw, Hal Sutton, or Greg Norman.  My dad would grin knowingly and refer to the likes of Ray Floyd, saying “Don’t count the old man out!” And on June 15, 1986, on Father’s Day, that “old man” was the oldest player ever to win the U. S. Open at Shinnecock Hills.  Floyd is one of only two players to win official PGA Tour events in four different decades (along with Sam Snead). He played on 8 Ryder Cup teams, and was the oldest player ever to compete in that event at age 51.  He earned 3 points for Team USA that year (1993).  I think my dad knew something I didn’t.  You can’t ignore the education that comes with age.