The Tour Class

It's the weekend of The Players tournament, which usually marks the official start of my golf season. Although I've gotten almost a dozen rounds in, it's only now that I've started to focus and begun scoring in the low 90s again. I've been playing about 3 times a week and the past month has been kind of a blur. I'm realizing more and more that, in golf, mental focus is as important as muscle memory. After all, your body can only do as much as your mind tells your body to do.

Most of the time out there on the local course, it's just average amateurs trying to get a workout. But last week, I had the chance to play a few holes with two guys that were quite possibly tour class.

It was a late afternoon on a weekday, after I'd finished 18 holes with a couple of Korean golfer gals, and we got a slot to tee off again and try to get another 9 holes in. On the tee before our slot was a pair of guys hitting from the blues. Most guys hit from the whites, and the blue tees are right next to the starter shack, so when anyone tees off from the blues, you can't help but notice. After they hit two perfect, monster drives, I noticed that even the starter was impressed, rolling his eyes and throwing out his hands towards them as if to say, "Those show-offs!"

The two guys were young and clearly tour long, but they also carried themselves with the kind of gracious demeanor that you see in professional golfers, the kind who have won some and lost some but have the confidence in knowing that, on any given day, they are still much better than most. They walked nonchalantly, with their bags slung like quivers of arrows against their backs and not a care in the world.

They'd obviously made the green in two, and by the time my threesome teed off, they'd already cleaned up their putts. We kept pace with them for 6 holes, and then my two playing partners said they needed to stop and head home to pick up their kids from school and get dinner on the table. I was playing relatively well and wanted to finish an even 9 so I continued solo.

I made par on the 7th hole and found myself waiting at the next hole, a par-3 semi-peninsular green that reminds me of the 17th hole at TPC Sawgrass, where The Players is held. The tour-class twosome was waiting on the tee. Things always slow down at a par 3. I rode up, but not too close, and pretended to check my phone so they wouldn't think I was watching. After I'd heard the sound of two balls being hit, I drove my cart closer.

"Hey, do you want to hit on with us?" one of the guys called out.
"Uh, okay, sure," I said. "If you don't mind." I felt like I'd been invited to dance onstage at a rock concert.

As I rode down the winding path down to the forward tees, I saw two balls on the green, one of which was long left from the pin and the other which was about 6 feet from the hole. "One of you made a great shot!" I shouted.

Then it was my turn to make a great shot. Pin was front so all I needed was a wedge. The trick was to keep it straight and not let any left spin pull the ball toward the water. I addressed the ball and took a deep breath. Then, swing! The ball flew high and landed soft -- about 4 feet from the hole. I was elated.

The two guys both said, "Great shot!" and then it was on to the business of putting. The long-left guy had no chance. With a sloping downhill green, it was all he could do to make double bogey. The 6-footer guy, well, I could tell he wanted a birdie. But he missed it for par. I didn't make birdie either, but I parred it. I think the 6-footer guy was relieved that I didn't beat him on that hole.

As we headed to the next hole, the 6-footer guy told me he was from Canada, in town visiting his girlfriend, but that he "spends a lot of time in Florida."

"Oh really?" I said. "Trying to make the tour?"
And he said, "Yeah, pretty much."
I didn't have time to probe further. The next hole was the par 5 Number 9, the last of my day, and I wanted to make it a good one.

The two guys hit way over the trees, cutting off the massive dogleg left fairway which I can only hope to land clean with a bit of a draw from the way, way forward tees. I hit a decent drive, but I was still away so I rode ahead to hit my second and third shots. On the third, my club face was slightly open at impact, sending my ball right of the green, between a bunker and the cart path. I trusted that the two guys would hit arrow-straight into the green, so I had no qualms about riding to my ball even though they were behind me.

I waited till they took their approach shots to get on in two. Then it was my turn to try and get on in four. I had wedge in hand again, exhaled and made the shot. To my surprise, it stuck right by the pin, within about 3 feet.

"Good shot!" the guys shouted. As the long-left guy walked up the pull the pin, he said, "I thought it went in the hole!" They seemed genuinely impressed. The cynical side of me thought they could have been patronizing me since I am a woman. But the hopeful side wants to believe that they really were impressed. A good golf shot is a good golf shot, no matter who makes it or where.

They were away, so they putted out. And then it was time for me to make a 3-footer for par. Since I was leaving after this hole, and they were playing on, I told them to go ahead so I wouldn't hold them up.

"If I miss my putt, I don't want any witnesses," I told them. We shook hands, and I waved them off saying, "Maybe I'll see you on the tour someday."

After that, it was just me and the hole. I wish I could say I made the putt for par. But I bogeyed. Still, I felt inspired. I know I will never be a member of the tour class. But at least for a hole or two, I can act like it.