Mark Twain once (allegedly) claimed that golf was nothing more than “a good walk spoiled.” He must have never been to the Arnold Palmer Invitational at Bay Hill – like I was last week. Thursday morning spent walking the grounds was spectacular.
One portion of walk – from the green of the 8th to the fairway of #10 – during the PGA Tour’s latest stop outside of Orlando, Florida had me feeling, in fact, pretty damned spoiled.
I found myself standing near the #8 green, watching a threesome putt with casual interest. In the corner of my eye, I recognized a young lady with an “official” PGA Tour credential watching intently as each of the three pro golfers tapped in for an uneventful par.
Turning to resume my stroll, I couldn’t help but ask the young lady as I passed, “Are you Ms. (Pro Golfer’s last name)?” I was making an educated guess based only on her assumed age relative to the pro golfers we had just watched. It turns out, I guessed correctly.
“Yes, I am. It’s very nice to meet you.” I could sense her warmth from behind our stale, mandatory facemasks.
I smile (unbeknownst to her), “He looks great so far!”
I expected that to be it – to leave his nice lady to her lovely walk watching her husband hover near the top of the first round leaderboard. Instead, by the time the #8 green became the #9 tee box, we were chuckling at her husband’s stoic demeaner on the course against his goofy behavior outside of it.
After a tee shot that split the fairway, our chat continued.
Now strolling from the #9 tee to the green, I asked Ms. PGA Pro about balancing the care of young kids with a husband crisscrossing the world throughout most of the year. She didn’t hesitate to gush over the help provided by their parents who help with day-to-day necessities during the fast-paced PGA Tour season. Most parents on the tour, I learn, employ full-time nannies that help attend to the kids, travel, and school responsibilities. Others go months away from home, not wanting to interrupt their children’s studies and social activities.
“I guess we’re more Midwestern – or something – because we didn’t want to do that. Hiring a nanny, finding someone you trust, paying them to travel with you to watch the kids for you – it didn’t fit. We have it so good with our parents. It works perfectly,” she says, brimming with gratitude.
We’ve now reached the 9th green and her husband has not. His approach landed in a greenside bunker. The polite applause of the gallery accompanied his wedge to within six feet of the cup. Another tap in par and he is atop the leaderboard.
Our walk heads toward the back nine – the 10th hole, a short par four that dog-legs right to an elevated green.
“So, I bet it’s hard to have him gone all the time,” I say, readjusting my mask that is driving me more batty by the minute.
“It’s the little things – those are hard. Harder for him for sure,” unpinning her mask to take a quick swig of a cold beverage. “Like, last time he was home, he was shocked seeing our son use a butter knife. Just a little thing I taught him – that’s kind of stuff that he misses. I know it is hard on him.”
We’re silenced by the starter and announcement of another group teeing off on #1 to our left.
“Show me a picture of your kids,” she suddenly asks, breaking the silence.
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“Gorgeous family,” she comments. I nod proudly.
“Yeah, when I think about lives like you and your husband’s – being gone a lot, in new places all the time, raising kids – I think it would be great, but really tough. I guess your husband is doing what he loves. I think that would be fulfilling, but I’m not sure I could do it,” I must sound reflective to someone living through this type of dream.
She was quick, “You could do it. I think about the other day. I hadn’t seen (pro golfer/husband’s name) for a long time – other than on Facetime which is not the same. He and I sat down, opened a bottle of wine and talked – for two-and-a-half hours! Would we have done that if we saw each other every night? Probably not. Maybe we’re more attentive because of all of this.”
She’s right. I may be home each night, but can’t recall such an uninterrupted block of time spent catching up with my wife – ever.
With that, our walk was ending. I didn’t want to over-step and, I’m sure, Ms. PGA Pro wanted to re-focus on her husband holding the lead in Arnold Palmer’s famous event with a loaded field. I wished her well and offered to help with local recommendations if she and the kids found themselves bored during their time in Florida.
I went on for the remainder of the morning watching these ridiculously talented golfers in their beautiful, sun-drenched fish bowl a bit differently.
I was left thinking about how easy it is to see these guys as rock-solid, confident, uber-rich, better-than-me types. My short walk on Thursday tells me that line of thinking might be entirely wrong – at least for the majority who are playing for their livelihood, away from their loved ones, at each weekly Tour stop.
I was suddenly thankful for having taken that expectedly pleasant walk with someone who helped me know better. These guys we cheer on, dress like, attempt to mimic at the range, and yell at from the rope line are dads, sons, and just dudes weighed down by many of the same worries that all of us are.
I’ll carry that perspective with me from my early Thursday stroll at the Arnold Palmer Invitational at Bay Hill – a walk that might have even changed Mark Twain’s tune about golf.
After all, golf did not spoil my walk.
In fact, I feel so incredibly spoiled by spending time strolling and chatting with a proud wife and dotting mother as she watched her husband do what he loves – and do it pretty damn flawlessly.
It was, indeed, a great walk.
Note: A special thank you to Aaron Flener, caddie of PGA Tour professional J.T. Poston, for providing me a pass to the tournament. I owe you for a spectacular day at Bay Hill.
