Last week I wrote about my nephew making the decision to get into golf. Having just graduated from college and looking to make his mark on the world, he decided that knowing how to golf would not only be handy in business situations, but also appease his current girlfriend who happens to enjoy the game.
We traveled to a local golf store where I fitted him with a mid-range starter set, bag, golf balls, cleats, and a glove. When he walked out of the store, he had everything he needed to begin playing… except a golf swing.
I watched him hit several shots at the practice range inside the store and concluded that he was a long way off from having any success on the course. I then told him to text me during the week and I’d make time for him at a local range where I could give him some basic tips to get started. (I actually suggested that he take lessons from a golf pro, but it turns out there was a waiting list of a couple months.)
I waited all week but heard nothing, so on Thursday morning I texted him and told him to meet me at the range after work. He replied that he would “try to make it.”
I had planned on sharpening my game at the range, so whether he showed up or not didn’t really matter to me. However, he is family and after his parents spent all that money for new gear, I felt a little responsible to help him along.
Needless to say, 15 minutes after I arrived at the range, my nephew texted me to say that he wouldn’t be able to make it. It seems a pool party would be taking precedence over a golf lesson.
I went ahead and began to hit balls, trying to work out a few hitches in my own swing that had crept in over the last several weeks. I was about mid-way through my first bucket when a young kid saddled up in the bay next to me and starting wildly hitting balls.
He was in front of me so on occasion I would stop and watch his swing. I do this quite often as an exercise: I watch someone’s swing and try to unpack what they may be doing wrong based on the ball’s flight. Sometimes it’s easy to pick out the flaw, but other times a seemingly good swing results in terrible shots.
The young man (likely around 14 years of age) was growing increasingly frustrated. I could see him trying to figure out what was wrong, but he obviously didn’t have any knowledge of swing mechanics to help resolve the issue.
After hitting a barrage of bad shots, he swung around in exasperation and blurted out, “I can’t do this!”
That’s when I stepped in.
I walked over to him and calmly asked if he wanted some help. He sheepishly said yes, at which point I showed him the proper grip of the club as well as the correct stance and posture, all of which he was doing wrong. I then gave him a simple drill to represent the feel of a full golf swing, unlike the choppy action he was trying to pull off.
Slowly we moved to hitting some balls, where I insisted that he slow down his swing (every teenager wants to kill the ball, which generally results in poor contact). His first shots weren’t the best, but just as I was feeling like I was losing him, he connected perfectly and sent a pitching wedge shot high into the air.
The kid marveled at the ball’s flight, then turned to me and said, “That. Was. Awesome!”
From that point on, he was fully ensconced in the process. He diligently looked at his hands on the club to make sure his grip was correct and paid close attention to where he brought the club back during his backswing. Not every shot was great, but he was consistently making much better contact.
I stood there with him for at least 45 minutes while he hit ball after ball. When he was done, he graciously thanked me, and then wandered off. As I stood there cleaning off my clubs, I couldn’t help but wonder if my few minutes of instruction would ignite a lifelong passion for golf in that young man’s heart.
In this week’s feature, “Tell Them You Love Me,” we meet another person who ignited a passion in a young man — except in this case the passion would lead to lawsuits, a prison sentence, and a wildly insane story.
Based on actual events, this documentary follows the relationship of Anna Stubblefield, a university professor who specializes in facilitated communication (a way to help people communicate through a keyboard), and Derrick Johnson, a non-verbal young man with cerebral palsy.
If you’re looking for a crazy documentary revolving around torrid subject matter, this film is for you. Just be prepared to finish the film and still have looming questions.
A sticky “B” for “Tell Them You Love Me,” now available to stream on Netflix.
Got a question or comment for Dom? You can email him at moviediary@att.net.
