For roughly the first 953 times I played golf with Ben over the last 10 years, I won 951 times. I expected to win. So did he.
Until 3 years ago, he didn’t take golf seriously. Until last year, he had no chance to beat me. Ever. He wasn’t good enough. But little by little, he worked. And now, while I’m still technically the better player (as in scores lower), he hits it longer, harder and makes WAY more birdies than I do. I’m “death by hybrid” guy and he’s the “310 carry? I got this…” one.
Sure, it’s golf and if I played badly, technically he could win, but virtually every time he had the lead, I expected him to blow up and mentally collapse whilst I buckled down. Golf IS 90% mental. Facts! And, in fairness, he’s a kid, I’m a man (I’d say adult but you know that’s not true!) and experience, wisdom and having been there before counts for something. So does just being “his dad.” It’s really hard to beat your dad.
I have won Provincial, State and National squash tournaments. I’ve competed at 4 world championships and the Pan American Games. That was all awesome. But, I can tell you the honest truth, there is no one I want to beat, and keep beating, more than my son. And when it’s close, let me tell you, I know the stakes as well as anyone. Ben and I have a 4 year old bet that says when he beats me twice in a row, he wins $1,000 for College. Until this golf trip, he had beaten me twice ever, tied me half a dozen times and every time, I beat him by 5 or 6 the next round. So far this trip, it’s been different. He won by 1. I won with an eagle in 15 that stole his soul and crushed him for the last 3. And the third round, we tied. I thought he would be done for after the eagle but I was wrong, and troubled.
Yesterday, he shot 69 with a double on 18 to beat me by 1 (I was pretty pleased with my 70 and on any other day, would have been excited, but I lost to Ben, so it tasted like dust in my mouth).
When I woke up today, I knew that today was his day to beat me. I could feel the tension all morning. Definitely different than before. His confidence, his swagger. His chippy comments. “Dad, you had a good run…”. All the things I had said and done when I was playing my best squash. I wasn’t sure today would be the day, or rather I hoped it wasn’t, but I was absolutely confident I didn’t, and don’t, have long.
When I was a kid, my dad let me win at things because I had a really bad temper. Basement hockey, squash, chess. It wasn’t until I was much better at squash than him that we even played for real and by then, it was too late. I won easily and never learned to lose. I appreciated his approach, he didn’t grow up as a competitive athlete, nor did he have any idea I would be one, so he kept the peace. Walls didn’t need to be punched. Rackets didn’t need to be broken. And really, how much could it matter to beat your dad, anyway?
As the kid and an eventual competitor on the world stage, I could say honestly with my entire soul- it matters to beat your dad A LOT. You learn to lose from him and you learn to win by beating him. For good for for bad, I swore I would never let my kids beat me at anything. Ever. Including cards and dice. If (or when) they beat me- it will because they earned every inch and overcame every advantage I had over them as their father (that’s a tough putt, remember when you were 7 and you had nightmares and needed me to calm you down… yeah, of course I’d say that!! No mental game is off limits). There is no right answer in parenting, and my dad was there for me through every win and every loss. Each success has his fingerprints all over it. My only adjustment was the teaching to lose and then to win element Ask me in 10 years how it went.
On 10, he led by 1 after making birdie on 8. He bogeyed 10 and 11 before birdie-ing 12 to tie. He missed a 3’ putt on 13 for par before hitting the pin from 120 and stuffing it to 5’, a putt he narrowly missEd. I made a 10’ for birdie out of the sand on 15 and he made birdie from 6’ on top of me to tie. I missed my 8’ for birdie on 16 and blasted it into the hazard on 17. I made a miracle 4 from Rocks and he 3 putt to be tied on 18.
This is what you live for. The chance to win standing in the tee on 18. I hit first and pured it 300 down the middle for my best shot of the trip. He missed right into a hill and hit his second over the green. I stepped up with a 9 iron in hand, looked at Ben’s best friend’s dad who I was playing with and smiled, and the. proceeded to knock it to 8’, for the best best shot of the trip thus far. Ben made bogey. I 2 putt for par to win by 1 and reset the scoreboard back to “current reigning household champion.”
Ben was disappointed but he knew I played my absolute a$$ off to win by 1. If anything, he’s more confident. He and I both know I have never focused so hard playing golf, even winning club champs, twice, was child’s play compared to this trip. And every single day, he gets better. Youth is wasted on the young.
I asked him “What’s more nerve racking, winning a high school Tournament or beating me?” He looked at me and said “Not even close. I want to beat you more than anything.”
He will. Soon. And then I’ll likely have a 2-951 record with him for the rest of my life. Parenting: it’s important. We give the best of us (and the worst) to our kids and hope for the best.
Beautiful story and way to parent! If Ben had beaten you, you could have used the "I might need a new set of clubs" excuse, lol. I told someone that story just this week, how he literally "grew" out of his clubs.
Excellent story David and I’ve enjoyed reading about Ben’s achievements in the game! I’m proud of him too and I’ve never met him!! 😉 Great job to you Dad!!