Four Up, Nine to Play

My son is four years old, and we recently played our first round of golf together. That was definitely not the plan.

He loves cars and anything with wheels, but he had never been in a golf cart before. I thought it would be fun just to take him out there, hop in a cart, hit some balls on the range, roll a few putts, and see what he thought. Nothing more than a simple day with Dad.

We started on the range, moved over to the putting green, and cruised around in the cart for a while. He loved all of it. We grabbed some lunch, and by then he was still having such a good time that I asked if they had an open tee time. They did, so I grabbed it.

While we were waiting to tee off, I was on the putting green and looked over to see that he had grabbed the scorecard and started writing his name. He is just learning to write, so watching him carefully put his name on that card was already pretty great. He added mine too — “Pat” — and I filled in the pars for each hole.

He had no idea what the card really meant yet. He just knew we were playing golf together and our names belonged on it.

I figured we would play two or three holes and call it good. I was actually a little nervous because I had no idea what to expect from a four-year-old on the course. Once we got out there, though, it was pretty easy. He hit when he wanted to hit and rode along when he didn’t. Then a hole later he wanted to hit again. There was no pressure, so we just kept going.

Somehow, two or three holes turned into nine. No iPad. No schedule. Just the two of us in the cart having a good time.

He hit a few drives, probably 20 or 30 yards, and made two putts that still make me smile thinking about them. One was from at least 20 feet. I was only filming it to send to Mom, and my little man rolled it right in.

Then on the ninth hole, I pulled the phone out again just because I wanted to remember that we had actually made it all nine. His first drive went backward. He re-teed, took another swing, and piped one straighter than my tee shot. Pretty good way to finish his first round.

At one point, I also made the mistake of borrowing one of his golf balls. For the last couple of months, I have been buying him colored balls and ones with different logos, and he already has his favorites. He let me use a red Callaway Chrome Soft that looks like a soccer ball. I hit one drive with it and lost it.

We looked everywhere. He was madder than a bull at me. A hole later, we spotted a red ball sitting in the next fairway. There it was. He went from being completely mad at me to completely excited in about two seconds. Ball back in his hand, Dad forgiven.

Other golfers we passed gave him smiles and thumbs up. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to see a little kid out there trying it out. I’m still not sure who was having more fun, him or me.

That got me thinking about how golf gets passed along. When you first start playing, you don’t know the rules, the traditions, the etiquette, or why certain things matter. You just start experiencing them — the range, the putting green, the cart, the scorecard, taking your turn, watching someone else hit. Eventually, all those little things start to mean something.

I have no idea whether he will grow up loving golf. I hope he does, but that really isn’t the point. It was just a great day with my son. No real plan, nothing scripted, and somehow we ended up playing nine holes together.

He got to be outside with Dad, and I got to watch him experience the game for the first time.

That’s a round I’ll remember for a long time.