Today I played golf. Well, not really golf. At least, not a full round of golf. My five year old daughter has a zest for the game, and wants to be "like the professionals." So we hit the links together, playing four holes at the local course, 15 through 18.
We'd both tee off, then she'd hit a second shot, then we'd pick up her ball and move it to where my tee shot landed, and we'd both play from there. Once on the green we'd both putt out, dropping her ball at a convenient location near mine. She had a blast. And I? Not only did I have a blast, but I played my best golf of the year for those four holes. Even par, and on the one par five we played I was just off the green in two. (Missed a four footer for birdie - rats!) Three of the four greens in regulation, and up and down on 18 from the rough just off the green.
So, as we're driving up the fairway on the last hole, approaching my tee shot and about 150 yards from the green, we spoke.
"Are you having fun today?
"Yes, dad. I want to be a real good golfer, like the professionals. Like Tiger Woods. And you."
And that, my friends, is the only time you'll find Tiger Woods and I mentioned in the same breath in a discussion of golf. Though I'd have been happy to help him out with the knee problem last year.