Recently, our twelve-year-old grandson, Nolan competed in his first “major” golf tournament. He and his father, Jim traveled to Richmond, Virginia for the 12th Redmond Cup matches; a First Tee sponsored event that featured junior teams from Pennsylvania, Maryland, Washington D.C., North Carolina and South Carolina. Throughout the 2-day competition Nolan represented himself and his team like the future champion that he is. He loves the game and has a fine golf swing. As his great-grandfather would say, “he just needs to put some more meat on his bones.”

In the summer of 1965, I competed in my first “major” golf tournament. I played in the boys 10-12 division in the National Pee Wee Golf Championships at Orlando’s Rio Pinar Country Club. In those days, it was a top-tier junior event and, I remember having had to go through an 18-hole qualifying round held at Miami-Biltmore golf course in Coral Gables.

When the time came, my mother drove my sister, Debbie and I north to Orlando from our home in Miami Beach. I remember beginning my first round on the dog-leg to the right 10th hole. After hitting two good shots I used my trusty 5-iron to safely reach the green in three strokes. I must have left my 35-foot putt a bit short of the cup. After carefully lining up my putt for a par five, I missed. However, instead of tapping-in for a three-putt bogey, I unwittingly one-handed it and the ball again failed to drop in the cup! At that moment, my young brain went completely numb because I picked-up my ball and headed for my golf bag. Fortunately, the father of one of the young fellows with whom I was paired, called out rather distinctly, “Young fella, just what in the heck are you doing? Do you realize if you don’t putt out and finish the hole you’re OUT of the tournament! Disqualified! Gonzo!” Then, he told me to return to the scene of the crime and to replace my golf ball as close as possible to where it was when I initially lost my mind and picked it up. After doing what he instructed I tapped in the remaining short putt. At that point, the kind man asked me if I knew what score I had on the hole. Um, let’s see; on the green in three, three putts then the ball goes in my pocket – so that’s a one-stroke penalty, then one more putt to complete the hole. Well, that adds up to eight. Nice going buddy, your first big junior tournament had gotten off to a rather inauspicious start. The next day went a lot better though. No major gaffes. I remember shooting 96 – 89 for a 36-hole total score of 185 and a respectable finish.

There was another woeful incident which I remember about that tournament. It happened the very next day during the final round. On the last hole, my second shot finished to the left of the 18th green. I had a short pitch for my third shot. As my mother was sitting in a golf cart a short distance away, I shanked my shot and it hit one of the many pine trees at Rio Pinar. Mom said: “Dickie, I think you hit every tree on the course!” Knowing my dear mother, her comment was made mostly out of shear amazement and not out of meanness. Now, if my father had been standing there and uttered those same words, the old pro would have been ‘sticking it to me’ in hopes of me never doing that sort of thing again!

The game of golf presents many unique challenges for all of us. In the final/last analysis, of the greatest gifts junior golf gives parents isn’t a college scholarship or a tournament trophy, it’s time together.