I used to play a lot of golf. A lot. I was in an industry where taking clients out was par for the course. The game was solid. I was a bogey golfer, and on occasion a mid 80’s score lifted my spirits as I lifted barley sandwiches with the other golfers. Life was grand. Golf occupied a large portion of my summer activities and I was lucky.
Then I lost my eyesight. If you have been with some sight your life, and then lose your sight, you know the cycle. It is no easier if you are born with limited or no sight. Being blind or visually impaired is life altering. You have to remember that a good life is one that you define, with hopes and goals. Aspirations to return to “normal” and not have to listen to people say how sorry they are to hear you are blind.
Initially, so was I. Then I changed my perspective. I began to realize that being blind had lots of interesting and unique benefits. Sure, you heard me say that correctly. Benefits. Like being able to go anywhere with your drop dead gorgeous guide dog and meet new people who want to know her name or if they can take a picture with her. You don’t have to really wait around in line ups, you get some special seats for shows or sports events. Life has a way of giving you what you put into it.
Then that fateful day came when I did a random Google search after hearing someone else talk about blind golf. How was that a thing? How does that work? The answer to my search was a website. OntarioBlindGolf.ca – wow. Right on. Blind golf in Ontario? I could not click the link fast enough. I read and listened to all I could. This was just incredible. I had never picked up my clubs after going blind, I mean other than moving them from one resting place to the next. Could this be real? Why was the website a different name than this Ontario Blind Golf?
I reached out to one of the Board members with a series of questions. Some of them were silly I thought, and was hesitant to ask. Did not need to. In talking to 2 separate Board members it was obvious I was going to give this thing a shot. They answered my questions before I even asked them. I had a lot of questions about rules, and how a coach would work with the player, what the organization is about. It was wild.
They encouraged me to come out and play the next event. It was one special event let me tell you. The timing for my return to golf was something else. The first course I would be playing was a course I played at regularly as an older teenager and young adult. In fact, we would go with some friends at 4:45 a.m. on Saturday and be the first on the grounds. They would leave the gate open for us. It was awesome. We would get our rounds in before having to clock in for our Saturday shift at a sports store.
I did not even get a chance to really practice before that first round back. I had wanted to, but couldn’t make it happen beforehand so the only thing I could do is show up well ahead of the game and get some practice time in at the range with my coach. Neither of us knew what we were doing. He is a capable and sound golfer. He has always worked on improving his game, and making the rules and etiquette top of mind. I was very fortunate that he wanted to be part of this journey. I had my own orange balls, the white ones I could not see at all, and the orange one I would be lucky to see in the right light. Otherwise, and most of the time, I could not see it. It was about feeling my club touch the ball and then adjusting.
It was not an easy warm up. Lots of issues and I was getting nervous. How was this going to work out? Was I really going to be able to hit the ball? Straight? Distance? How many strokes was it going to take me? All I wanted to do was get the first round done and see how it would go. My coach knew I was anxious. He has known me for decades. Then came the most important 4 words he could have said to me at that moment.
Just. Enjoy. Your. Game.
He repeated it on the driving range. He repeated it on the putting green. He reminded me that I was a capable golfer and this was not going to be a perfect game. It would be near impossible to shoot a perfect game, even if you were a very good golfer before. This was blind golf. I had 2-3% of my vision on a good day. On a bad day it may as well be none.
Have fun.
I took a couple of final stretches and stepped up towards the tee. My coach was right beside me taking me to the spot that seemed to make sense. Then it happened. I shed a tear. It was just incredible. Overwhelming. Being back at Oakridge Golf Club three decades after having played it like clockwork was something I will never forget. Ever.
I will also never forget that first drive. I remembered the course layout, and had refreshed my memory about the yardage to certain hazards and where the biggest dog-legs were on the course. The first fairway had a slight dog-leg right, and the green was protected by lots of sand on the approach. If you poked this drive straight you might make the water. Likely a straight, controlled drive would be the best shot. I lined up and my heart was in my throat. I heard those 4 words again.
The drive was beyond anything I could have asked for. Perfect is an understatement. I had no clue where it went but it felt amazing. Like I had never missed years and years of playing. The reaction of my coach was mixed with the voices of the other pair in out grouping. I had laid it up just shy of the water. A good 260 yards, but how? Was I really a pitching wedge away from that green? The answer was yes. Yes I was.
So you think this is all daisies and blue skies? Nope. I shanked that second shot like I owed it something. It was horrible. I managed to get a double bogey on that first hole and I was elated.
My goals were simple. Enjoy my game, and just one par. No matter what this was going to be a special day. It all ready was.
So you want to know how I did? Well I managed to shoot a 93. I got my par, and more.
Did I keep shooting out the lights like that in the next events? Not at all, the next game was 118, the next after that 116. I was trending in the wrong direction.
No. I wasn’t.
I was just playing my game, and enjoying myself. Keeping pace. Enjoying the sun on my hat. Taking in the fresh air. Enjoying the company of our groupings. Grinning like an absolute fool.
I was playing blind golf, and in the words of the great Robert Frost, that has made all the difference.