Father/Daughter(s) Golf Tournament

Now that I am older and my memory cannot exactly recall all the details of my children’s growing up years, I can say with nearly 100% conviction that I think I was truly blessed to have three wonderful daughters. My wife says that she only remembers them as angels and any doubt that I might have stems from their untimely interruptions of my watching the Cleveland Browns games on TV. She actually said that I blamed my daughters for Cleveland not making it to the Super Bowl all those years.

It just so happens that I am in the golf business and my daughters have been exposed to golf almost since they were born. Also, while they were growing up we lived for 17 years on a 9-hole golf course in Heath, Ohio called Forest Hills Golf Club. None of the three ever had any desire to become players. Sure, they hit the ball around a little and played every now and then, but to say they were even average players would be a stretch.

Then there were a few years when golf was a little more desirable for the girls and they played a little more frequently, but it was also the time the local boys and their friends decided that if there was a golf course in their backyards,they should give it a go. The song and movie “Where The Boys Are” particularly rings true in message here, but what the heck, at least golf was a little more important to them.

At this time, I played to a 6 handicap but did not play as often as I wanted because of a fast growing golf business that was like holding on to a tiger’s tail. Since I lived on the 8th hole, I could play a few holes whenever I liked and as you can guess, I knew the course very well. Shooting under par was the norm and not the exception. Put me on a so-called regulation golf course and the 6 handicap was reality plus. The course itself could only be characterized as short, narrow and hilly with blind second shots to 2 holes. It was around 3,100 yards with most holes heavily tree-lined.

I wandered into the clubhouse for a beverage on a Friday late afternoon and noticed a poster for a father/son tournament to be played the following day. I said to the owner, “What about daughters?” He had to think for a moment and said, “Let’s make it open to all fathers and their kids.” Having asked the question meant by no means that I planned to enter the tournament with my daughters, particularly because I had three of them and there was only one of me. So I said, “What about mothers playing with daughters?” The owner said, “Maltby, I am allowing daughters in, but no mothers. Father-son tournaments are a tradition throughout the United States.” I knew to ask no more questions. Besides, I wasn’t playing anyway.

Every once in a while, I get a brilliant family togetherness idea. My wife says three times, four times max in my lifetime but normal fathers get them all the time. So, I come home on Friday evening and at the dinner table I throw out the suggestion of playing in the Father-Son Tournament. The girls are mildly interested but they remind me that they are not my sons and creating a disguise to pass as boys is out of the question. I tell them I have worked it all out and besides, only the course owner and I know that the tournament has been changed to a Father-Kids Tournament. So, in their minds I have now overcome the qualifications for entering the tournament. Now they want to know which daughter I am going to play with since I am the only dad they have. I told them that I will play with all three of them in one day.

Fortunately for me the tournament is a 9 hole alternate shot format, so all I need to do is play 27 holes. Cathy is 9, Kelly is 11 and Tracy is 13 years old on tournament day. My wife positively assures me this is correct while I steadfastly argue that I thought Cathy was only 7 at the time. She further asks me what I think their ages are now just to test me and prove her point. I decide to remain quiet. Mothers know everything about their children. Many fathers are suspect when it comes to ages, birthdays and family history. I fit into this category.

I played with Cathy first thing in the morning and we really gelled. I am hitting it great and she is moving the ball along and even knocked in a few putts. The sixth hole is a par three with the only bunker on the golf course. I hit a smooth 6 iron and pull it slightly into the middle of the bunker and now it’s Cathy’s turn to hit. As we walked to the hole I was explaining in simple terms the 15 steps to get the ball successfully out of the bunker. It’s a male thing to always give unwanted instruction to females in any sport. I don’t know how it happened, but Cathy took a swing at it and the ball plopped out on the green one foot from the pin. I tapped in the putt for a par and was feeling like it just may be our day.

When the tournament was over, I wandered back up to the clubhouse to see how we did. Cathy and I tied for the lead in her age group so they matched cards starting from the first hole and we ended up in second. She has the trophy to this day. Kelly and I came in fourth. Tracy and I came in tied for third. There were 28 teams that day and my three daughters were the only girls entered.

My wife finished reading this and looked at me and said, “You can remember the exact shot you hit on the sixth hole 27 years ago, but you can’t remember your daughter’s ages.” However, I do remember that it was a great day that I will never forget.

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