Forget The Score and Enjoy The Game
I want to tell you about my friend Pete. When I started teaching skiing back in the mid-1960s, Pete and I ended up to be roommates. Pete, like your dear president Geoff Bryant, was a golf teaching pro in the summer and a ski teaching pro in the winter. Pete moved on to be a fly fishing pro when a business opportunity presented itself.
Pete introduced me to fly fishing on the Bow River in Canada. The Bow River flows out of the Rocky Mountains and through Calgary, Alberta. Just south of the city, this part of the river was one of the best fly fishing rivers in North America. Pete took me out there one beautiful fall day. He showed me how to wade into the river and stood by me while I flailed away trying to get the line and fl y to behave. I was working very hard to try and catch a rainbow or brown trout. Finally, Pete told me to STOP.
“What are we trying to do here?” he asked.
“Trying to catch some fish,” I said. He came over to me, grabbed my arm, and told me to take a break.
“Take a look at where we are,” he said. “Look at the snowtopped Rockies to the west, the leaves in full autumn colors, the moving water of the river we are standing in, the peace and quiet out here, and being with your friend in this special place! This is FISHING! You need to know the difference between FISHING and CATCHING! Keeping score is not what this is about!” Pete could be a bit direct at times.
Yesterday, I had an hour before an early morning meeting. I zipped out to the golf club of which I am a member and to a special part of the driving range not many other members frequent, as it is a bit out of the way. I met up with a new member who had just retired and moved to our community. We were enjoying hitting practice balls, chatting as the sun was coming up over the hills to the east of us. I asked him how his game was. (Why do we all do this?)
“Oh, man,” he said, “I shot 94 the other day. I am so frustrated. I usually shoot 84! I have to hit some more balls and get this worked out!” So, head down and, WHACK, “@#$%^!” My friend should have met Pete. Here we were, standing on this isolated part of the driving range. It was very quiet and peaceful between our shots except for a meadowlark sounding off just behind us. There was still snow on the high hills around us, and the contrast with the green grass of the golf course made the setting absolutely
spectacular. My friend was obsessed with keeping score and was missing out on part of what golf is all about.
Pete passed away a couple of years ago, but not before he got to be a marshal at a golf course near his home on the west coast. He got to be on the course and help other people, something he was very good at.
A golf course just opened on the island Pete lived on and is an ecological masterpiece. Pete had a hand in the design of the course, and would have been proud.
