Conversation as we open the car door to the steamy, Southern summer morning.
Me: I would love to be able to jump in our pool right now to cool down quickly.
Rob: Which of the seven human beings that live in our house does not like the pool?
Me: Well, us four like the pool. Danny likes the pool because he thinks it’s a giant water bowl. Harper likes to swim so that leaves Rio who really doesn’t like water. But of course, they are not human beings. Let’s say which of the seven living beings ….
Rob: Let’s just say animals. We’re all animals anyway.
East Lake Country Club has a hell of an intimidating first hole. You tee off over water then uphill with bunkers on either side. Rob found both bunkers and took three shots out of the second. Hell of a way to start the day in the oppressive heat. The second hole, a par 3, went better and the third even better with a chip in from around the green to save par.
It probably really shouldn’t bug me as much as it does but he is playing with the playing partner from the second day of last tournament (read it here) who insists on teeing off before him, regardless of who has the honors, and who is obviously buddies with the other playing partner who both walk along together, always way ahead of Rob, crisscrossing his line even while he is waiting to hit his fairway shots that almost always land shorter.
Of course, it is not required that we are friendly to our playing partners, indeed a lot of players use intimidation and aggression as a strategy – and that was definitely not what Rob was facing here. It is a good idea, however, to practice good golf etiquette and remember that reputations are made in the junior years and college coaches can be behind any tree, stalking and scouting players and wondering: can he be a team player?
We’re back to finding every sand trap on Hole 4 and it occurs to me, as I linger in the shade of a tree alone, far removed from the parents of the playing partners who move as a pack, that I very much prefer it like that. I handle my own stress better on the course alone, without having to make amusing commentary to alleviate the unease of the audience as my child limps from bunker to bunker like a wounded antelope. I like my own company. My thoughts entertain me and comfort and motivate me. Imagine a wolf tracking a rabbit on a stony path, silent, diligent and unpredictable – and a pride of lions lolling in the long grass, purring companionably after a kill in the comfort of the warm, savanna sun. I am the lone wolf every time. And as socially adaptable and confident as Rob is, my instincts tell me that you leave Rob to himself and he’s likely the toughest dog in the fight when push comes to shove on an emotional and intellectual level.
Right now, on the golf course today, he’s more cat-like – clawing his way out of sand traps all over the place, finding himself in unnecessary trouble in tall trees and assiduously avoiding water. Which is good, there’s a lot of the stuff!
He launched an attack on the back nine in the gnat infested heat – kept his drives straight and fairway irons out of trouble. He came up short on this long, difficult course. Everything was short – he definitely needs to focus more on acceleration through the swing. But this long, difficult course is East Lake – soon to host the Tour Championship – and if a junior golfer has the opportunity to play this course they need to pounce on it and feast with wild gratitude.
Ultimately, perhaps Elvis Costello had it right: We’re all just animals. That’s all we are, and everything else is just an elaborate justification of our instincts. That’s where music comes from. And romantic poetry. And bad novels.
And blogs.
