Back at Pinehurst for the Red, White and Blue Invitational. Rob playing in the 12s now, same course as Bear (13-14s) and only marginally shorter. The boys played a practice round together. Bear has played the course before and all I remember from that experience: the greens and how they roll. Fast and hilly and if you don’t land the ball in the correct place it will roll over the back or side or front right back at you ….. I fear the greens but I tell the boys what they need to be thinking and saying to themselves: These are literally the best greens I’ve ever played. In other words, channel your inner Chris Traeger big time!
The day is hot and humid. Pretty as anything. Peaceful. Black squirrels dart along the fairway and Pine trees swell with birdsong.
It’s Pinehurst. The cradle of American golf. With my babies who – as I watch them laugh and pound that little white ball two, three hundred yards down that fairway – are on the brink of manhood, with the confidence and composure that life instills, as long as you can roll with the punches that inevitably appear along the way – and the Pinehurst greens.
