My buddy Brendan just came home from over seas where he was in Afghanistan for over a year. This was his second stint protecting our country over there and it was great to see him again. It was a huge relief to know that he was ok. If you know someone who is involved in the war, then you know the feeling you get when you see the news and you hear about another soldier dying. I always cringe and hope that I don’t see his face on the screen.
So with Brendan back I decided that this was the perfect opportunity to round up the guys and go play a round of golf. We are probably the most diverse group imaginable as far as what we do for our careers, yet our friendships have remained in tact since childhood. Not a single one of us is an accomplished golfer by any means, nor do any of us claim to be. Honestly, I’m not even sure how we all began playing, and after some of the scores we’ve put up I’m not even sure why we still do. Never the less the mood was right and it was a rare opportunity for all of us to be at the same place at the same time.
Golf is the perfect sport for Brendan because of the type of person he is. Despite all the accomplishments and achievements he has, he is easily the most humble human being I have ever met. He doesn’t take himself seriously and honestly cares for the well being of others more so than him. This is what makes him so successful in the ARMY. This also makes golf way less stressful for him because it’s the single most humbling game imaginable, it can take any persons head out of the clouds with a single stroke of the club. He is quick to laugh at his own bad shots and passes off his good shots as dumb luck. How can you not root for a guy like that? It’s embarrassing when you get upset at yourself after a bad shot because you see how graceful he is able to handle himself.
We decided to play at Steele Canyon in San Diego, which may have been a mistake. There are definitely courses better suited to our lack of skill, but I wanted Brendan to see the best, and I definitely consider Steele Canyon to fit the bill of being one of the best tracks in all of southern California. The elevations are amazing and the views cannot be topped. There were times when I wasn’t sure if the cart was going to make it up the path to the tee box because the path was so steep. The wildlife and mountain scenery was reminiscent of our hometown of La Quinta out in the Palm Springs area. It was a wonderful experience and it’s easy to see how Golf Digest could give this course a 4.5 star ranking.
The conditions of the course took a back seat to Brendan however. Our 18 holes were rounding down as we played the Canyon/Ranch combo and were on Ranch number 7. It’s a pretty long par 4 hole that is downwind. Somehow or another we dodged the bunkers on the left with our tee shot. By this point no one had a score worth bragging about, especially Brendan. He struggled to say the least, however still managed to keep on smiling and laughing at himself. Everybody else was on the green in two except Brendan who hit his second shot fat and was still about 130 yards or so out. We all waited for him to hit his third shot, none of us knowing that what was about to happen was going to be an unforgettable memory.
We all know how a good shot sounds. There’s that thwack sound that you hear and you just know that the ball was hit pure. That’s the sound that Brendan’s ball made when he took his third shot. It got up and seemed to stay in the air forever as our attention was focused on this ball traveling towards us on the green. We rooted for it like a fan trying to wish a baseball over the fence for a home run. The ball hit the green, took another little short hop, and directed itself towards the hole. The ball sunk towards the bottom of the hole and we jumped towards the skies as we erupted in laughter and celebration. We raced towards Brendan and hugged him like he has just won the Masters.
I honestly can’t remember the last two holes on that day, but it doesn’t matter. Our scores were high, but not as high as our spirits, and there was really only one shot that mattered: The birdie on 16.