I have a date with my granddaughter Zoe tomorrow afternoon. This will involve no ice cream or chicken nuggets. We will not be watching a movie or going on a drive. We will be watching… The Masters fourth and final round on my ridiculous big screen in the basement. Zoe, to my surprise, went out for golf this year at Arvada West. Other than Mini Golf she had no prior golfing experiences. She told me her coach recruited her. Well, she loves it. I secretly laughed when she told me she thought it was great. “Wait until you have hit three balls in the water and you get an 11 on a par three”.
One of my favorite Spanish words is envidia—which translates to envy. Yes, one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Sometimes a foreign language brings a depth of meaning to a word, that expands as you hear it. Envedia can take hold and never let go. It often happens when we compare what we have to what we perceive another has. Well, I get a massive outbreak of envedia when I watch 23 year olds hit 400 yard drives, to be followed up with a 40 yard ‘chip-in’ from a sand trap. I recognize that what they make look easy has taken thousands of hours of work. Nonetheless, I would love to be them. The only other thing that truly brings out the envedia bug in me is not mansions or fancy cars, it is being able to play the piano like Billy Joel.
Tomorrow at 1:00 Zoe and I will settle in to hear Jim Lance, and for the last time, Verne Lundquist softly build the narratives of Green Jacket lore. I had someone recently tell me they would rather watch paint dry than watch golf on TV. I asked them when was the last time they watched it on a 4K big screen, where 100’s of cameras, including drones, take you along with the golfers as if you were their caddy. They told me they might give it a shot. I said the scenery alone at Augusta National is hard to beat.
I remember Dr. Jim Strain, a beloved Elder at South Broadway, telling me that golf was a great way to spoil a walk. I could almost relate. There was a time when I did not play the game below a Bogey average, but I was capable of really enjoying myself. The ravages of Long Covid has cut short any retirement golfing I thought might be in my future. I am confined to swimming as my exercise, and TV golf as my way of participating in the sport.
I really can’t wait to share this time with Zoe. To explain “Amen Corner” (a notorious spot on the course) to her and have her view up close the heart break of a putt that stops one inch short. She is really enjoying learning the game and she tells me her coach is wonderful. “If you learn to build your game from the ground floor up, you will have something that you can enjoy for the next 60 years”.
My envy is tempered with joy as I share these thoughts with Zoe. I look forward to driving her around Arrowhead Golf Course in a cart. I will take in the amazing scenery and she can go look for her ball in the desert.
Envedia—will remain. However, for four hours tomorrow I will be spinning tall tales my unrealized golf potential. Then I will show her the putter that my dad gave me that is over 100 years old. It was a gift to him when he caddied at the Broadmoor in Colorado Springs in the 1930s. “Zoe, this will be yours someday when I get it restored”.
Onward and Upward,
Mark1
Lyfting Me Up 