Torrey Pine golf U.S Open

I don’t know if it’s the fresh sea air or the small of wet fresh cut grass, but watching the U.S. Open at Torrey Pines is awesome. My husband and I had been planning the trip for a year. We dropped our kids off with his parents in Southern California and had 4 days of kid-free-adult golf watching. Boring? Not in person. Being a golf spectator is the best. You’re outside: The Pacific Ocean against the golf greens and the Torrey pine; getting some exercise: walking the beautiful greens, watching the pro golfers: Tiger bogeyed hole 17; meeting the nicest people, and drinking beer. At $100 a ticket, there is little riff raff. The majority of men have collared shirts on; everyone is congenial, helpful, nice and chatty. I love meeting golf people. As far as sports events go, it’s the most relaxing to watch. That is of course, if you don’t really care who wins.

This year, of course, we were in for some history making golf. My husband and I went of Friday and Sunday of the U.S. Open. On Friday, we arrived at the course at 9am, got some breakfast, walked the course and watched golf. It was beautiful. Until, that is I saw this guy, Vanderplank (who I later named Vanderplunk), walk into the out-house located off the side of the green. Is he really going in there? In front of all these people? A father behind me with his two sons said, “He’s droppin’ the kids off at the pool.” I almost lost it. Which is hard to do at a golf match because quiet is usually in order. Did he wash his hands? Where? (I later discovered in my own outhouse usage that there is now a Purell container located on the inside of the port-a-potty.) And the port-a-potty, or Johnny on the Spot, is a funny little happening. Around the course, there were about 20 or more of these port-a-potties fenced off with green lattice fencing. It almost looked nice. But once one entered the “bathroom community” all talking ceased. Everyone waited in line, if there was one, did their business and got out. There was no talking or socializing in this quarantined area. But, I digress…

The golf. Yes, the golf. We saw a lot of good golf and we saw a lot of bad golf. The bad golf makes us all feel human. I saw one player throw his club into the ground. We’ve all been that made. Isn’t it wonderful? We saw Tiger warm up. There were hoards of people following him and Phil Mickelson on Friday. So much so that we had to go 7 holes in front of Tiger. As I mentioned earlier, we saw him bogey the 17th. Not a happy Tiger. We left the course at 6pm, exhausted. And all the while, reports of Tiger’s knee were trickling out: it hurt, it was sore. Nothing more. Fiift thousand people went to the course on Friday. We realized that we would really have to have a strategy to see Tiger on Sunday.

Here was our strategy: Watch Tiger at the driving range, leave and set up along the green of the 1st or 2nd hole, watch him on the 6th and then head over to the 18th. That’s what we did. It would be perfect. Tiger would drive the first hole, the ball would land right in front of us and then we could watch him put it up on the green. Well...Tiger banked the ball so far left that it landed in the crowd! Then, it hit the tree and bounced back. Humility. His third shot hit the branches and then landed on the green in front of us. There was Tiger in all his glory: built, focused and in red. The 6th hole went more smoothly. As we walked over the 18th we tried to get beer and a snack but it was getting crowded already. The grand stands were not a possibility. We walked along the other side and set ourselves up just about 50 yards down the right side of the 18th hole. There we waited for 2 and half hours. We were set, we had a nice couple on the left of us with the TVs we had a nice young couple on our right. And if front of us, was the shortest Asian couple I’d ever seen. Someone I could actually see in front of. Tiger and Rocco were on the 18th green. Tiger hit the ball RIGHT in front of us. In fact, all the camera people (hoards of them) were in front of us. Had they taken the shot from the other side, we would have been on TV. Onto the green he went. When it came time for the put, everyone was silent, breath was held. People positioned and repositioned, I stood on my tippy toes peaked in between ears and hair and heads. Between 2 inches of space, I saw Tiger hit the put, but then a head with a brown hat on it moved into the inch of space I was looking through and I missed the final shot.

Sports Insecurities

Embrace what you can’t do and be proud of it.

It is a bright sunny day and the 6th grade class is going outside for PE. We are going to play a game of kickball. Although I liked kickball I knew I wasn’t the greatest. It’s my turn to kick, and I’m excited but then I see the top male class athlete motion everyone in the outfield to move in. Right then, I realized how everyone else saw me: A girl who couldn’t kick very well; an easy out.

Growing up I wasn’t very strong. I didn’t have great eye hand coordination. I struggled, but did enough to get by. I quickly remember watching a volleyball fall to the side of me and felt everyone else’s disappointment. I remember pick up games of basketball that I didn’t participate in. Why put myself out there only to be made fun of?

But now at 35,Screw it. I don’t chase balls. I can’t hit. Won’t hit and that’s the way it is. Faculty softball game? You really don’t want me to play. I accept that I don’t do balls. Put me on a track and I can run. Put me on a bike and I can ride forever. But please don’t put me in the outfield and expect me to catch a ball. I wonder, if I had this confidence, this acceptance at say age 10, what would my classmates have thought of me then? Would I have been more popular? Would I have been accepted more? Oh, there’s Missy, she can’t hit, but she can run. It’s cool. Just like my nephew now who insists that he must change out of his wet swimsuit as soon as he’s done swimming. And that he must have his chocolate chip cookies warmed, won’t eat them cold. What if I just said, “ I don’t play baseball.” And what if, people just accepted it instead of ridiculing me for it? Would I look back at myself and see a confident self-assured 10 year-old? Would I look back and regret that I didn’t play baseball with my friends? Instead, I look back and I feel an insecure girl, and see one who lacks self-confidence. What if, someone would have just said, “It’s okay. Let’s work on it. It’s okay. Just accept it. Own it.” Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t know these insecurities arose when kids played sports together. When it comes to participating, adults don’t take a back seat. We coax, we conjure: “Go on, you’ll have fun. Just get up there and swing.” They think because we’re kids we should try. We should play. It’s our time to learn. Learn now, because you won’t when you’re old.

That’s not exactly true. In high school, I met a long time acquaintance and we became friends. One night, we went to a batting cage, where he proceeded to patiently teach me how to hit a ball. No pressure. No judgment. I am still a horrible baseball player, but I at least know now that if my life depended on it, I could play in a game of slosh softball. Due process. Isn’t that what we all need? Besides, as we grow older learning something new keeps us young. As my two young girls get older and I start registering them for gymnastics, soccer and swimming. I just ask myself, will I know when it’s right to take a back seat when it comes to my own kids?