This Father’s Day I am going to spend some quality time with my Dad. But instead of enjoying the scenery at one of our many local courses, I will be watching the US Open from the couch while periodically going out on the deck to check on the delicacies warming on the grill. In fact, this has been our annual ritual for the past several years.
Unfortunately my Dad is unable to enjoy the pleasure of playing golf like I do. Even though he has aged gracefully, injuries over the years have made it nearly impossible to walk any distance, bend down and put a tee in the ground or swing a club and maintain any sort of balance. Even a trip to the local Putt Putt course may even prove to be a considerable challenge. No, we will watch the best players in the world face a tough course under enduring conditions. I say we, only because he will be in the same room with the TV on, but I am not really sure if he enjoys watching it or not. If you asked him, he would politely say he does, only because he is in the company of his son.
The great thing about people mature in age is the stories they can share with others and my Dad has many. Of course none of which have been embellished throughout the years – well, perhaps they are slightly as some things are impossible recall just exactly as they might of occurred six decades ago. But as his son, I need to believe they are all true. Like the time when he was young and the Ohio River froze over and they could driver across the iced over river to Indiana or during the depression when all they could afford to eat was pink soup (that’s ketchup and milk if you are wondering). Those things I can believe.
At some time during the telecast when all is quiet, our bellies are full of barbeques ribs, chicken or steak, my Dad will recall his one golf story. I can recall it just as folksinger Arlo Guthrie does in “Alice’s Restaurant”. It goes something like this:
During college at the University of Kentucky, my Dad would have to walk to football practice, sometimes cutting across the golf course to do so. He was a good athlete back in those days as he ran track, played basketball and his favorite was playing baseball. But one day while cutting across the course a friend of his yelled over and said “Bill, come over here!” There lay a golf ball in a greenside bunker. He told my Dad to go ahead and hit the ball. From the depth of the bunker, all that could be seen was the very top of the flag. He handed my Dad a club, as never playing golf before would have no idea of which one to choose. With no practice swing or quick tutorial by his golfer friend, he struck the ball and it came out of the bunker toward the hole not exactly knowing where it landed. Nowhere to be found on the putting surface, they looked quickly around the green only to come up empty handed. Finally, the golfing buddy decided to look into the bottom of the cup. Lo and behold – there it was!
The only shot my Dad ever made on a golf course and it goes in. He decided at that time why give up his good fortune and hit another shot. After all this was an easy game. But if that one day, by chance, what would have happened if he would have missed? Being the athlete he was and competitive nature, would he have taken up the game? Would we all mention him in the same breath as Byron, Jack, Arnie, Tiger and Bill?
I seem to think so. I hope you all have your Father’s Day wishes come true.
Sincerely,
Jeff Summitt
Technical Director
Hireko Golf