We bring up talented 6 and 7 and 8 year olds with stars in our eyes, quite convinced they are prodigies and future pros. As you play these tournaments more and more and the kids get older you mellow, or perhaps you just get jaded – and realize there a lot of very talented golfers in the country and there are a lot of factors that go into becoming a golfing pro and why is this even the focus when the kid’s prefrontal lobe that sets goals, weighs different agendas and integrates memory and experience into decisions is nowhere near developed yet? Focusing on anything other than trying to be happy and inspired in the moment is an exercise in futility.
I have players on both side of the preteen talent spectrum. Bear is always a top five contender and Rob, in a national field, will probably not break out of the bottom five. I’m not sure which is more stressful to caddy for. There is always a sense of responsibility felt by the parent but ultimately it falls on the player to really want it, which means not relying on pure talent but preparing methodically on the practice range.
The desire and ability to do this without parental breathing down their neck will be what sets these kids apart from their purely talented peers. Being fiercely independent and coming to golf late (yes, 9 is considered late in the junior golf world) Rob has had less parental breathing than the average player.
Before the round Max suggested that Rob not use his 3 wood at all. It is not going well right now and if he happened to hit it well the few more yards achieved would not necessarily be significant. Rob agreed and said on the practice round – where he declined to even warm up with it – that he would not be using it so keep it packed away. No arguments on my side.
We played with two nice kids and easy-going Daddy Caddies. Rob held his own well. Really not too many mess ups and when there were, no crying – unlike a playing partner who cried on absolutely every even remotely badly hit shot. Daddy-Caddy did a great job keeping himself calm through the histrionics. Most dads cannot handle crying.
We went along well enough except for two triples. On hole 12, out of the blue the 3 wood is requested and sliced right into a green-side bunker. On hole 17, following a really nice drive, the 3 wood makes an appearance again and is chunked 5 yards into the rough. The hybrid gets the distance nicely up the fairway but an unlucky cart path bounce sticks the ball in the muddy red hazard. Note the catalyst for both calamities !
Surprisingly this was not all my fault. However, it wasn’t always peace and goodwill to all despite the most wonderful time of the year. I spoke too much. Apparently. I was “not a very good caddy” and not his “first or even second choice”. I said ‘good shot’ when I should have said nothing and I left his sand wedge for the people behind us to pick up and he would pretty much prefer “anyone else”.
Sometimes it turns out that even trying to be happy in the now is also an exercise in futility in itself.
