I ran across this photo I love of Dad and I in 1975. It looks so much like me and any one of my boys in the yard. Mom sent this to me in April and I wrote this on fathers day this year: [if you’re a golfer it’ll make sense … and if you’re not a golfer, life probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to you anyway!]
As a kid I never cared much for bunkers – they basically guaranteed me the disappointment two extra strokes.
But bunkers weren’t like that for my Dad.
Don’t get me wrong – Dad never cheered as one rolled into the sand … but each time one did, he never hesitated. A firm believer in the “full swing bunker shot,” the only variables for my Dad were his distance from the hole, and how much sand he’d send at it. To him, the bunker was a known and beatable obstacle, and nine times out of ten the ball danced up close for a makeable par.
Sure, Dad taught me how to use the sand to stick ’em close … but it’s not the technique as much as the ‘fearlessness of the bunker’ that he gave me most. You see on the golf course, bunkers are inevitable. Whether the course deals you in, or you get there by mistake, we’re all going to be there from time to time. The only real question is how you approach them.
Life deals out plenty of ‘bunkers’ too – we all know it. My Dad taught me to walk into life’s ‘bunkers’ with confidence and a full swing, and to never lay up from 220 for fear of a few bunkers around the green.
I love you Dad – thanks for the lesson and the memory!