THE OLD TREE



That's the title of this photograph and it brings back memories of the old tree shadowing the Number 1 tee box at Green Hills Golf Club in MTV. We used to say what tales that old tree could tell.

I've written before about 3 of us teeing off in the snow at midnight to start the new millennium. Only one of us hit the drive very far. Too much laughing And, no, not one of us had had a drop to drink.

But I think of all the wagers made under the boughs. All the bull. All the gusto. The planning and conniving. There may even have been a lie or two told under the branches.

But there was also pressure felt. It used to bother me to hit a golf shot when there were lots of people around. One afternoon back in the mid-eighties, when Coach Red and I were teeing off, a big Junior Tourney, State Farm sponsored, I believe, had just concluded except for a few stragglers on the back nine. A typically scorching Summer afternoon found fifty or so finished players milling around the shade of the old tree as we teed off.

Coach Red was about a 2 handicapper, so he felt nothing except the adrenaline of a competitor ready to show his stuff in front of a crowd. Sure enough he hit a huge drive with a power fade that landed in the middle of the fairway.

Next up was a nervous double digit handicapper who kept trying to erase the thought that these guys sitting around here watching me hit a tee shot are really good golfers, and if I dub it will laugh, at least to themselves.

I tried not to kill it and stay down on the ball. It took off straight and had the same power fade that the coach had hit. It landed right next to his. "Throw a blanket on it" as the saying goes. Thankfully Coach Red didn't make some kind of humorous statement, like "so you decided to hit it in the air today, huh?" But I think he was proud of me, too. That we had crushed tee shots in front of a gallery.

The funny thing is that I never get nervous hitting in front of anyone after having had that experience. Oh, I still have reason, too, and I would love to plug that shot into the old computer of my muscle memory to pull out and duplicate, but it just doesn't bother me anymore to hit in front of an audience.

I wonder what would have happened had I hit the same drive I did back in 2000?