By Luke Boatright
My first memory of golf is Payne Stewart in red “plus fours” and his patented hat adorned with a Kansas City Chiefs logo. That began my love affair with golf. Something as simple as a kid who at one point in his childhood lived in Kansas City and who went to games began to love another game because he wore a logo. Like a lot of kids who have parents that play golf, I have pictures of me as a toddler holding a plastic club. I don’t remember my first time on a golf course, but I can bet it was on a vacation while my dad and uncle snuck out to play 18. Riding in the cart and putting on the green was the highlight of the vacation — and don’t forget the hot dogs at the turn!
I entered middle school as Tiger was winning his first green jacket. I loved Tiger; I still do, but if you asked me who my favorite player is, it will always be Payne. I was a part of the middle school news production team that put on our campus news program. I can still picture exactly where I was when the news announced that Payne Stewart’s plane had crashed. There is nothing cool about an 8th grader crying amongst peers, but there I was.
Aiken Golf Club (Aiken, S.C.)
As I got to middle-school age, I would walk the local course with friends and play with my dad on the occasional weekend. Golf was always on the periphery for me. I guess that was the byproduct of moving around a lot as a kid. Junior golf was never a big thing in the cities where I lived until I moved to Columbia, S.C. — but even then, I didn’t know how extensive the opportunities were out there for junior players. I often think back at how different my experience with golf would have been if I had gotten involved in that at an earlier age. It’s more likely I would have become burned out and hated golf than I would have been even a fledgling professional, but a part of me would always have like to have known. The school system I was in had a nationally renowned band program, and I found a home in that. Golf took a back seat, as this was an ultra-time-consuming thing to be a part of. As I got to the end of my high school career — realizing that, while fun, music wasn’t going to be something I pursued post-graduation — I returned to golf.
I tried out for the high school team my senior year and was the usual “five” man on our squad. Lucky to get playing opportunities and not usually counted on to have a score that mattered, I found something I had no idea was missing: fun. I was bad, and I never broke 100 in an 18-hole tournament. Even now when I tee it up in the occasional tournament, the pressure of knowing every shot counts sure changed how you play. During this time, I took a job picking golf balls at the local driving range. And while the minimum wage pay wasn’t the draw, the ability to hit all the golf balls I could stomach more than made up for the pay. One of the local teaching professionals took a liking to me and offered me some free advice. I got moderately better, and after a few nine-hole matches when my scores counted, my love for the game grew. One year of playing high school golf made me regret not doing it sooner, but that’s life.
Now I was off to college with a bad work ethic for school, but a great work ethic for playing golf. Much to the chagrin of my parents, I spent my time playing golf instead of in the classroom — an expensive way to find your passion and love, but I have learned a lot of lessons in life can be expensive and painful. I returned home, working a more full-time role at the driving range and taking some classes in my off hours to make up for rough freshman year.
During this time, the owner of the driving range saw a hole in the golf market in our town and started a full-service pro shop. I found a lot of pride in helping get this off the ground. I also found a career. I began to work towards becoming a PGA professional. After a few years of that, an assistant professional job opened up at a great private club in town, and I took the job. It was a great career and has put me and helped put me in the position I am today — but if you love golf, it’s my opinion that often the worst job you can take is in the golf business. I played a lot of golf, but it wasn’t the golf I used to love. It was work. It’s hard to explain, but I began to loathe the game. I knew that, to advance, you have to be willing to move around — and due to my childhood and my “home” uprooting after a few years, I had decided I wanted to stay planted where I was. Marriage and the hope of starting a family drove my decision that, while it was a passion, this wasn’t going to be the career I had the rest of my life. I took a job from a member of the club, and that portion of my life was over. I began to play more golf, but just because I had free weekends. I played with guys at the club, but it was just something filling time. I don’t know what I was looking for out of it — but whatever it was, I wasn’t getting it.
After a few years of the same thing and a kid on the way, golf took a big back seat. I didn’t play much, and at times just considered quitting forever. Between my scores rising to a level I thought weren’t good anymore and the loss of passion, I was burned out. Now, if the kid who never broke 100 but loved golf saw the guy who was mad not shooting in the 70s anymore could talk, I am sure they would have had an interesting conversation. But I think, deep down, the guy mad with the non-70s rounds was really using that as an excuse, because he was missing something in golf not getting from golf.
Golf is shooting a score and posting it, yes. What I have realized as I have gotten older is that those four hours on the course are more about the people I am playing with than whatever number I post. I realized this after joining an online golf community, The Refuge hosted by No Laying Up. I drove three hours to play 36-plus holes of golf with complete strangers, and it changed my life. I found people who were like the Luke of his senior year of high school: lover of golf and just happy to be playing. The thing I was searching for wasn’t the score: it was finding a person with a common love. Whether I always realized it, that was the love of golf.
My scores have gone down and back up, hopefully trending back down again – but now, I’d rather watch my 4-year-old hit balls on the driving range than hit them myself. Maybe there is another layer of love for the game that I am still yet realizing?
Luke Boatright is from Columbia, S.C. You can find him between Columbia and Augusta, Ga., involved in land acquisition for a homebuilder — or on Twitter at @lukeboat.
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