I get a large bucket of balls for 8 dollars. I can make it last for about an hour. I warm up with a few swings and stretches. I then play a golf course in my head. I measure and hit to targets on the range that would represent targets on a course. I live in each shot and reflect on a career that never happened. I don’t celebrate good shots but still grind on bad ones, figuring out the why factor.  This has moved from a 3-4 times a week exercise, now to once a week or even every other week.

I wrote a post recently about sacrifice versus chasing dreams, which I still stand by. However I’m feeling the pull strings of responsibility. I’m also feeling the pinch and sting of the elite status of the game. If you don’t have money, you can’t play or at least play at any quality of facility.( I have no idea how I am going to be able to introduce my daughter and other kid to the game.)  My wife asked me if I missed my job. I guess I miss the opportunities I had. I didn’t take advantage of too many but the one’s I did were bigger than me. I got to take divots on hallowed ground. I was shown a glimpse of the other side. Now that I have nothing to provide that class, those doors have all but shut.

Today I hit balls and my emotions got the best of me as I watched people on the golf course. I wept. I wept for the young me that spent all that time in the dark at the Creek making a short game great. I wept for all that time I spent worrying about making ends meet. I wept for the friends that gave me money to play and I haven’t been able to pay them back. I wept for the bad decisions I made, the selfish decisions I made. I wept for not asking for help, so many resources and I was too proud and too scared. I wept and that’s OK. It wasn’t a bad thing. I’m not ashamed of being emotional about something I love. I have a deep connection to this game. I will never leave it but for the time being responsibility is winning out.

To those that don’t have the opportunity to play; I apologize on behalf of an industry.

 

 

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