Following through on a beautiful swing

Jump to Comments

I can’t remember the first time I swung a golf club, but I must have been about eight years old. I also don’t remember it feeling awkward or being a difficult motion to grasp. In fact, what compelled my parents and grandparents to encourage me to pursue the sport was that I had (and presumably, still have) a “beautiful swing.”

I started taking lessons at age nine, developing course management skills and learning the rules and etiquette. Unfortunately, my beautiful swing did not necessarily translate to a beautiful game, or a beautiful score. Fairway woods have been a thorn in my side (thank goodness for the arrival of hybrid clubs) and my putting stroke is so governed by “feel” that if I am not “feeling it”, my ball may assume the guise of a teenager, refusing to drop in the hole despite so much coaxing, or tough love.

My failure to score well plagued the perfectionist in me, frequently sending me into crazed fits of frustration, anger and eventually, embarassment at my behavior. Finally, during the summer between my junior and senior years of high school, I decided to give the game the attention it deserved. I wanted to see just how good I could be.

I abstained from all family vacations that summer in favor of long days on the practice range and muni courses. With a freshly minted driver’s license, I traversed Northern California, from Turlock to Ukiah and everywhere in between. I played in the Girls State Championship at Monterey Peninsula Country Club and attempted to qualify for the junior national amateur at Claremont Country Club in the Oakland Hills. I began shooting in the mid-eighties, with stultifying rounds of 39-46 and 47-38. My best performance came on cloudy August morning with ten bogies and eight pars on a nobly maintained track in San Leandro, California.

I briefly entertained the idea of playing college golf and might have done so had I not chosen to attend UCLA (their women’s golf team was–and still is–among the best in the nation). A childhood fascination with the film industry led me to the capital of urban sprawl. My forays into filmmaking combined with academic demands and college life left little time for golf. And once I turned 18, forfeiting my junior discount, I faced a financial barrier as well. I’d pick up the game again in the summer, and on family vacations, but the nickname I earned in college, “Country Club”, was my primary vestigial connection to the game.

Following graduation, still facing a lack of time and money, the challenges of being a new adult presented further obstacles to my golf game. Instead of summers off and Spring Break, I had a measly two weeks of vacation. Weekends were for catching up on my to-do list after a full work week. Then I started long-distance running, received the gift of a road bike, and learned to Nordic ski. Suddenly my life became oriented toward reaching a higher state of physical fitness. Carrying golf clubs for 18 holes, while plenty of work, simply does not rate. Especially when it takes five hours. I can run 26 miles faster than that.

But even in the years I was on a golf hiatus, I still thought of the game. I thought about it in metaphorical terms, about the lessons it taught me and how it is emblematic of so many of the themes we encounter in daily life. I also thought about the game in basic physical terms. While driving through a gorgeous stretch of the Paradise Valley near Livingston, Montana, I noted that a particular site offered great terrain for a course. As a nature-lover, I know how this must sound. But I can’t help it. I’m a fool for the vision of a muted green wonderland melting into a rugged landscape (let’s make it a links style course). Then again, maybe I really just wanted to stand on the ridge above and make one, big beautiful swing.

At the the ripe old age of 26, I’m beginning to learn how life circles back to tap you on the shoulder. That’s golf asking, “remember me?” Last November I wrote about my experience playing golf on the boys team in high school for Sports Illustrated. And in May, I accepted a position as assistant editor at Travel+Leisure Golf magazine.

Researching, discussing, and writing about golf has quickly reminded me of my natural affinity for the game. Golf is like a comfortable old sweater, familiar and fundamental. I celebrate the smells of fresh cut grass and mower exhaust; the sounds of balls struck on the range, shoes clicking on the path, of carts in reverse and the starter calling a foursome to the tee; the feeling of a glove on my hand, of the dimples on a golf ball or of the grooves in a clubface, or of tees in my pocket as I dig for my lucky ballmarker–an Indian Rupee. Equally familiar is the reality that as a young woman who plays golf (and especially as one who writes about it) I am an anomaly, most discernably among the men at the range and on the course.

At the same time my new job has opened my eyes to so many aspects of the game that I had never known or explored–the history, the architecture, and the significance it holds in so many contexts. I may never be restored to my former “glory” as a player, but I can accept that because golf means so much more to me now, personally and professionally. That’s not to say that I don’t still love hitting pure shots or making birdies. But now when I’m playing, I can’t help focusing on the “story” of the course, and sometimes I’m lucky enough that it’s my job to do so.

When I was a teenager, my elders constantly impressed upon me how important golf was in the world of business and how knowing the game would be of great advantage to my career. How right they were.

3 Comments

Filed under One More Time, With Feeling