There is something very special about teeing off with your usual foursome. Oftentimes groups play together week after week, sometimes daily, for years, growing so familiar with one another they become like old married couples, until you can’t imagine one without the others. One local foursome was so devastated by the loss of one of their players that they disbanded, unable to even consider bringing a new player into the fold, an act that would have felt like a betrayal of vows.
My playing companions and I came together quite by chance a few years ago, but exactly how that happened is a story for another day. Suffice to say we are convinced that it was meant to be and that we can’t imagine spending our Fridays any other way. We are typically a group of only three, not four. This means we most often call upon a contingency of players who can rotate in as our fourth, thereby sparing us the often harrowing experience of the unknown single being thrust upon us on the first tee. In the past, we have never been short of fill-ins but neither have we found the perfect someone to complete our little band on a regular basis each week. Only recently have we found a fourth who seems to fill the gap and solidify our group.
Hers is not a face that is new to us. In fact, she is so much an icon that anyone who has played serious competitive golf anywhere on Cape Cod in the last forty years has heard her name, or played with her or against her. She holds somewhere in the vicinity of seventeen golf championships, from local course titles to regional events. So revered is she, that for us, it is like playing with the Queen Mother. I am honored, as are my friends, that such a competitor, such a renowned golfer, chooses to play with us.
I was a newbie when I first met this legend of the golf course, having played for barely three years. But I was 10 years younger then and could whack a ball longer than the average hacker. I seldom had the proper address for my monster drives but some how her studied eye seemed to find promise in my swing. Over the ensuing years, though we played together only occasionally, I often felt as if she was watching over me, checking out my performance in tournaments and the progression of my swing as I struggled to rein it in and learn control.
For the last few years she has targeted my friends and me for several member-guest tournaments and other golf outings. Then a family situation kept her away from her game for months, and we missed her presence at the course. When it came time for her to play again we asked her to fill in on our Friday matches. Much to our pleasure, she now joins us nearly every week.
This lady only recently revealed her age to us, quite by accident. “A lady never tells” had always been her stock answer to any inquiries. Out of respect for her privacy, I will say only this: the number is low enough that the average golfer would be thrilled to post it as a score yet high enough that we are amazed at her stamina and skill. She is steady down-the-middle and can still get up and down from anywhere. Her only concession to her age is the necessity of a motorized cart. Still, by the time we meet mid-day for our round each Friday she may well have spent two hours cutting brush or labored a half-day in the garden. She is up at dawn and often phones in the evening long after I’ve gone to bed.
In many ways, to me, she bears a strong resemblance to my own mother. She is active, capable, intelligent and determined. And she wants to see me do my best. Although supportive of my efforts on the golf course, she will often admonish me; “you do not concentrate!” Her words echo my own mother’s words from my childhood; slow down, pay attention, work hard and the kicker… whatever is worth doing is worth doing well.
We cannot forget for a moment her accomplishments on the golf course but the formality we once felt necessary has melted away. As it happens when you play golf together each week, we have become, if not her equal, her friend. She is our mentor and cares for us on the course as well as off, with sage advice, homemade goodies and gifts of garden produce. And we, in turn, feel a responsibility to tend to her, as grown children watch over aging parents. We locate her ball when its flight takes it beyond her fading vision - though it is never far from dead center. We watch carefully as she makes her way down the steep side of a bunker – she once broke a leg on a downhill par three, though the resulting limp does little to slow her pace.
She claims to have lost her competitive edge, but I beg to differ. She is known to pick her playing partners with careful thought to assembling a winning foursome. She will never shrink from a bet on the first tee. In tournament play she would not be caught without her “A” game. There is still a great deal of fire in her belly and lightning in her putter. We are happy to know her and privileged to play golf with her. She plays to win. A true competitor knows no other way.
