My hand shakes as I tee the ball up. My heart is pounding. The ball falls off the tee. Once. Twice. These first tee jitters are different. Different because it’s my first round. My first round in a South African Disabled Golf event. “You’ve got this boy. Back of the ball, crush it” Zack tells me as I get ready to address the ball. I crush it… Straight right into a tree.
I have always thrived on pitting my skills against others. Whether it’s in an Interhouse Best Speakers competition or against our bitter school rivals, Bishops with cricket ball in hand, I relish the challenge. Golf, however presented an entirely new challenge. In my first few years of playing, I wasn’t much of a match for my friends on the golf course who were simply stronger and more coordinated than me. Today I had a chance. Today I was competing against people who had physical issues of equal severity, many worse than mine.
My formative years in golf had been frustrating as I searched and searched for a swing-plane and grip that accommodated my weaker left-side while being repeatable. Through it all there had been one constant ── Zack. Over the years he’s spent hours searching with me, he wanting to find the solution just as badly as I. He didn’t have to do that but he wanted to do that. That’s the type of friend he is. Now we both felt I was ready. It’s thus only fitting that the oke who had invested so much time in my development should carry my bag in my first disabled event.
I am getting impatient. I have hit the ball pretty well through the first nine holes with little more than a handful of Stableford points to show for it. But again Zack is a calming influence, always telling me to take it easy and control the controllables. I shank my tee-shot on the 10th and hear a guy I’d met only a couple of hours earlier chirp me from an adjacent fairway. We both do our level-best to ignore him.
Once I resign myself to the fact that the round was beyond repair, I start to enjoy myself. I start chatting to my playing partner, Riaan who is a left-leg amputee. It’s absolutely fascinating to hear his life story and how he lost his leg in a car accident. He tells me not to worry about the guy who chirped me earlier and says he means well but that his banter can often be misconstrued. This is a timely reminder of the reason I joined SADGA in the first place ── for the camaraderie as much as the competition.
As it turns out, Trevor, the guy who had been giving me grief on the course is a handy player. He plays off a 10-handicap and won the competition with 42 points.
He wanders over to the table where Zack, Riaan, my dad and I are seated and asks if I’d like to play with him in the next event. I say “yes” through gritted teeth. I am filled with an overwhelming feeling of determination. I thrive on pitting my skills against others…
I learnt a valuable lesson that day. As clichéd as it may be, golf really is just a game at the end of the day. Irrrespective of how kak you play and how frustrated you become, just be grateful that you’re out there playing and know that there are always people who would give anything to be playing golf with their best friend by their side.
Photo: Zack Van Der Schyff
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