That White Sand
“A ball will always come to rest halfway down a hill, unless there is sand or water at the bottom.”
It was one of those rare mornings of June when the weather reminds us of spring. The cool breeze, cloudy sky, and fresh grass were making us forget that yesterday was the summer solstice. It coated around us, like it knew we were fed up with the heat. Nature has a mind unbeknownst to us, and definitely a kind one. A sweet scent jammed our noses with bliss. We had a full flight that took off at beautiful Bahria Golf City GC.
I knew two of my crew mates were in much better form than I was these days. And one was a beginner with strokes. I have been losing rounds after rounds for the past few days, but everything is fair in sports and competition. I just have to remain patient, and my time will come.
This is a story of my continuous bad spell in the game. It climaxed with a bad bunker experience at the green side bunker at the ninth hole of Bahria Golf City GC, Murree. My third shot unexpectedly fell in the left bunker on the last green. I have been scoring well so far. Very confidently I played the bunker shot, but the ball fell back in the bunker after landing on the edge. I replayed the shot only to repeat the first action. Third time, it rolled over into another bunker across the green. Man! It was the action replay of the earlier bunker. Humiliation hovered over me, but I had to keep calm. Golf is about integrity and patience. I must trust the wind and the ball. For the ninth shot, I neared the hole. It was a strange experience. Never been in a situation like that. This incident has ruined my round, as well as the game. Ever since, I had been trying to play better, but to no avail. The white sand in that course was one of the best in town. I was playing with SIM. I was not tired since I was riding a golf cart. Everything was perfect. My physical abilities to execute the bunker shot just died, and my confidence was drained. All of sudden my body stopped accepting the command of my mind. I know S- -t happens. I never imagined it would happen that much. I suppose there really is a first time for everything.
Such are the frustrating times that make us quitters. The feelings of despair immediately entangled me with the rope of embarrassment. It lurked by my neck, tightening for every step I took. A chain of anger locked me up in the prison of hatred. My heart burned, almost as much as when I first started playing, I wanted to win. I looked at my crew mates, obviously, it was a source of amusement for them. My face bubbled with anger, but I couldn’t let them see it. The best admit their defeat and carry on. That is how we grow stronger. Disappointed danced on my partner's face, who had just performed a birdie on such a tricky green. His expression alone clawed at me, no words were needed when my shortcomings were this evident. Each fight has its losers. One side faces defeat in all battles. This time it was my turn to cause defeat.
The tables could turn. Defeated may reconquer. Golfers can make a comeback. Not merely by desires but with better planning & intense practice. All bunkers don’t carry white sand, and all players don’t act like I do. The winner lives within the loser; it just needs a wake up call. I can’t sit and wait for the winner inside me. I have to wake it up. I must flip that flame of embarrassment into one of enrichment. I must remember why I began this journey. Definitely, my schedule would include visits to the practice range. Coach, here I come back, to where I started.
We seek outside the wonders we carry inside us.
Bahria Golf City
Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, photographer, Rebel.
YouTube: Morning with Golf