No Carts

Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Golf Book

BY: James Swigert

Golf has probably kept more people sane than psychiatrists have.
~Harvey Penick

Golf is not just a game; it can save someone's life. I know it did mine.

Fifteen years ago, I went through a divorce. I had married my high school sweetheart, but after nineteen years together, it was over. I was devastated.

I moved into a two-room apartment in the center of town. The place was a far cry from the four-bedroom, three-acre ranch in the country where we had been living previously.

All of my friends were married and after a while I realized I couldn't spend every day at their houses. So when I wasn't at work, I found myself sitting on a barstool.

I was in the worst mental and physical shape of my life. I didn't care if I lived or died. And believe me, there were times I wished it was the latter. I was drinking heavily just to fall asleep at night.

My best friend kept trying to get me to go golfing with him. I had played football, basketball, and baseball in school and couldn't see how anyone could call golf a sport. You didn't run or jump and the uniforms were really ugly, especially the ones the older players seemed to fancy.

I had a birthday coming up. My children secretly asked my friend what I wanted. Instead of telling them what I wanted, he told my children what he thought I needed. So on my fortieth birthday, when I opened my card from the kids, out dropped a gift certificate for eighteen holes of golf at our local municipal course, cart not included. My friend and I set up a tee time and met on the day.

I kept saying, "Let's get a cart," as we made our way from the parking lot to the clubhouse, but he kept insisting we walk. I offered to pay for both of us to ride but he wouldn't budge. "But this is my birthday," I said. "What kind of present makes you lug thirty pounds on your back for six miles?" But my friend won out. We walked.

I didn't realize it at the time, but it was the best birthday present gift I could have received given my circumstances.

I hit a couple of shots from 100 to 150 yards that landed within ten feet of where I was aiming. I was hooked. My friend said he hadn't seen such a look on my face in a long time. It was a mixture of surprise, excitement, and joy all rolled into one.

We finished the round and I actually had a couple of bogeys on my scorecard. Before we got back to the clubhouse, we were already making plans for our next outing.

By walking, I was getting all this fresh air in my lungs, and you know, the bag really isn't that heavy when you set it down every 100 yards or more. I found that swinging the club served two purposes. It stretched my back out so I was ready for the next haul. It also helped to beat away the stress and frustrations that life had handed me.

That night I found myself exhausted, but in a different way than the other nights when I had went to bed at closing time. I slept like a baby, dreamt of pars.

Thanks to my friend and my children, I was introduced to the greatest sport ever invented. Yeah, that's right, I said "sport."

I truly feel that the life I was living wouldn't have lasted very long at the rate I was living it. And today I still head to the course instead of the bar.

This weekend, I'm taking my eight-year-old grandson to the course and am looking forward to that look of surprise and excitement and joy on his face when he gets a hold of one. Also the thought of him going to sleep dreaming of pars.

If you know of someone who's going through a rough time, buy them a round of golf without a cart. You might just save their life.

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