Who, other than residents of Fairfax, Virginia would have known that there is an observance known as “Underdog Day?” Apparently, every 15th of December for over 25 years, the kind hearted folks there have been celebrating the unexpected triumphs of come-from-behind winners.
Ask around about a few of this week’s WGAM Stone Cup matches and you’ll find at least half a dozen golfers who happily celebrated their own victories this week, if just a few months early for the Fairfax party. The Stone Cup is an impeccably organized, and fun, yet challenging, golf tournament. Match play is a funny thing – throw into the mix a taxing and exhausting alternate shot format and the matches become entirely unpredictable. Even still, one would never have foreseen that three of the four top seeds would be knocked out in the first round, leaving at least a few of us Dark Horses & Underdogs
It was David versus Goliath. It was the 1980 US Men’s Olympic hockey team. It was Rocky Balboa versus Apollo Creed. It was one of the most exhilarating matches I’ve every played.
After the first round qualifier the numbers the numbers didn’t look to be in our favor. My partner and I hadn’t played our best and, having placed right near the bottom of the pack, had set ourselves up for a tough match the next day. Seeded fifteenth out of sixteen, we were up against the second seeded medalists. It’s not that I’ve never played against a scratch golfer before. I’ve just never played one without strokes. Ouch. To be clear, it was not one on one; we each had a partner out there, but even that thought wasn’t enough to stoke my confidence.
I am generally quite the optimist but I don’t have much in the way of tournament nerves. May the golf gods bless those who relish tournament play; I am not one of those players. This week I was lucky to have a playing companion who is a scrapper and a bit more experienced than I. He also has a somewhat six-degrees of separation attachment to that aforementioned 1980 Olympic hockey team - he knows something about miracles. “Buck up,” he said, “it’s match play. Anything can happen.”
A side note, regarding the six degrees of separation theory: While my playing partner and I were out on the links playing the Stone Cup this week my husband happened to be finalizing a business deal with a previous winner of the same tournament. This gentleman’s golf partner for that win was my current beloved and respected golf mentor with whom I now play weekly matches. Furthermore, when those two won the Stone Cup over a decade ago, I had yet to even meet my husband, or either of them… but the man I played with this week now shares his life with my husband’s ex-wife and is still his best friend. Got it? I’ve always said our golf community is close but sometimes it is just down right uncanny.
Anyway, I digress, and a full explanation of the above is fodder for a different blog…
So it is, unfortunately, that in tournament play someone has to win and someone has to lose. It is no longer the average casual round of golf, all-for-fun, just a golfer against the golf course. It becomes player versus player, truly competitive golf. It’s not that it is no longer enjoyable but it certainly takes a lot more concentration and determination.
Alternate shot is a challenging enough formula for any golfer. Everyone is playing an uncommon game, looking at shots on the course from a lot of unfamiliar distances and curious places. It sometimes feels like Alice in Wonderland, a bit difficult to make sense of anything at all.
I can only imagine that the difficulty increases exponentially the lower the handicapper. You see, or so I am told, a scratch golfer goes out for each round with a plan. He knows just where is it that he’d like to hit his next shot; every shot must have a purpose
Now, for those of us who are middle-to-lower handicappers and not at the scratch level, having a game plan is that much less significant. You see, we might attempt to determine a strategy but are so often thrown off our game plan that we’re less surprised when we find ourselves in unusual territory. We carry an arsenal of pop-ups, punch-outs and provisionals… and we’re not afraid to use them.
If anyone had predicted the first round results of this year’s cup, I’m sure no one would have believed it. But, as I was reminded, funny things happen in match play.
The old saying is that every time a door closes another door opens. In truth, it wasn’t that we were really playing out of our shoes, but in that first round we managed to stick our foot inside every door that was open even a crack and force our way in like unexpected guests at the swankiest soiree in town. Swinging away, we danced our way through the green, leading from the get-go and barely noticing when our opponents tried to cut in.
However doubtful I was when we started the match I soon realized we’re all only human. And though our opponents were skilled players, they just weren’t making music that day. Perhaps any other day they could have silenced us, but that day someone was playing our song.
I am not privy to the stories of the other upsets, how those other top seeds went home early. I know all of the teams are fine golfers. I do hope the rest of the underdogs had as much fun as we did while enjoying a competitive match. None of us went on to win the tournament. Eventually, in the following match, the music faded away and though we tried to keep our foot in the door we pretty much managed to slam it shut on our own fingers.
The last of the top-seeded teams, a pretty safe bet from the start by reputation alone, took home the championship. I’ll bet they weren’t nearly as surprised by their success as my partner and I were of ours, as short lived as it proved to be. There’s something to be said for being the underdog. Victory may be fleeting but, when it is unexpected, it sure it sweet.
