An Afternoon with the PGA’s Zach Johnson where I thought NOTHING about Golf.

On Sunday, I had a unique opportunity to walk the final round of the PGA Tour’s Valspar Championship with Zach Johnson – but this isn’t a golf story.

No, I won’t talk about the meticulous work I watched Johnson and his Caddie, Brett Waldman, do on the practice green or driving range prior to his tee time.

Don’t expect me to recant stories of the Johnson’s appreciative acknowledgement of the fan near the 13th tee box who yelled, “Iowa’s down by 13, but coming back” (a reference to the Iowa Hawkeyes’ second round NCAA tournament game).

I’ll spare you the details of Zach Johnson’s miraculous birdie chip-in that was, oddly, met with silence from the gallery – to which Johnson sarcastically pointed at playing partner, Roberto Castro, saying, “Thank you very much!” (in a Clark Griswold-esque tone).

No, Sunday’s story had little to do with golf and, unbeknownst to the PGA Tour great I spent the day with, began many years earlier – on April 15th, 2007.

On that day, 12 years ago, my wife and I arrived home for the first time with our newly adopted son, Yosef. Shortly after our arrival, my eldest brother, Tim, and I had waded through the small gathering of family and friends that welcomed us, and toward the baggage claim.

Taking a seat and wiping my eyes clear of, either, the exhaustion of the 24-hour trip from Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, or the overwhelming emotion of our journey to parenthood, I broke the silence, asking Tim, “We left before the Masters ended – who won, anyway?”

With a half-crocked laugh, he smirked, “What? You didn’t hear? Zach did.”

The alarm signaling the start of the baggage claim’s conveyor interrupted us and jarred my shock at the unexpected, sports-related news. As I stood up, I mumbled to no one in particular, “Man. I guess he’s made it.”

I thought a lot about that day on Sunday.

And, nearly 12 years removed from that moment in the Cedar Rapids, Iowa airport, the now-established bona fide PGA superstar and I shared a Sunday stroll and all I could think about was being a dad.

I watched Johnson confidently stroll the lush green of the Innisbrook’s Copperhead Course and wondered if, all those years ago, he carried any self doubt about the golfer he’d become. I worried about my adequacy when we adopted and, hell, still do with all of my children on most days.

As Johnson would take notice of whether his putt was “down grain or up”, I was curious about how he might have learned that such precision makes a difference. I juxtaposed that with my parenting style which is often aimed at a “roughly right” type of outcome.

After our 18-hole walk was over, our quick chat concluded as a rush of adoring, young fans yelled requests at the Regis High School great from the nearby autograph area –

“Zach, can I have your glove?”

“Mr. Johnson, a ball?”

“Please, Zach, can you sign this?”

I laughed as I left Johnson, thinking the ear-popping noise of the fan request on-slot was good preparation for the short ride home with my five kids later that afternoon.

Yes, and with apologies to any golf purists, I spent four hours inside the ropes of a PGA tournament with a past Masters Champion and didn’t think much about golf at all.

I thought, instead, about being a dad – a story, for me, that began 12 years ago, as a young golfer from Cedar Rapids, Iowa “made it” with an improbable victory at golf’s version of the Super Bowl.

I will never win a major.

I will, likely, never shake Zach Johnson’s hand again.

But, as I strolled the course with Johnson on Sunday, I thought about the dad I’ve become and, for the first time in awhile, thought that I may have finally “made it”, too.

Thanks, Zach.

Special Acknowledgement:

Very special thanks to the PGA Tour and Innisbrook Golf Resort and Spa for allowing me to participate in Sunday’s Valspar Championship as part of the Honorary Observer program. For more information, please visit their website.