Jeffrey Patnaude, Business Life Magazine
Golf Lessons from the Kingdom – No Mulligans
Golf does not build character. It exposes it.
My father’s greatest contribution to my personal development was teaching me the game of golf at a very early age. As an eight-year-old, I spent hours slugging around the little nine-hole course to which he belonged. I learned the difference between a driver, brassie and spoon and how to keep “my head down,” as I chopped away with my wooden shafted clubs. Getting the ball to the hole afforded me many options at the age of eight: teeing up the fairway; throwing the ball by hand from the sand trap; or defining a “gimmee” as anything under six feet from the hole. The Mulligan, taking a second shot off the first tee, was another natural and “most acceptable” deviation from the rules.
When I was 11, my boyhood friend, Billy Madison, and I each entered
the Junior Championship, in which players up to the age of 18 were eligible. No longer were we able to play according to our boyhood rules; we now had to play in accordance with championship guidelines. After nine holes, Billy and I were tied at 48. The second nine would prove who had worked the hardest – or had the best luck. It wasn’t a competition against all the others in the field as much as it was between the two boys from Green Street. At the 18th tee, we were still tied at 90. We each finished the round with a 95. However, since Billy was overall, a better golfer, his handicap was less than mine and he had to concede a stroke. I won by that one stroke – not only our private match but, as it turned out, the championship. That taught me an important life lesson – you can play according to the rules and still win.
Many years later, a golf professional taught me another essential life lesson; he said, “How you do anything is how you do everything! How you play golf is how you will live your life.
I pondered these wise words from that wise and talented athlete and they seemed to make a lot of sense. But not until further reflection did I realize in how many ways that statement was, indeed, true.
Golf Wisdom
If we cheat on our score, we will cheat on our taxes – and anything else.
If we are always buying the newest equipment in an effort to improve our
game, we will surround ourselves with material things to improve our lives.
If we lose our concentration after one triple bogey, we will not be able to
handle the hard-times.
If we don’t allow the faster players to “play through,” we will lack the same
courtesy skills in relationships.
If we step in the lie of our competition, we will be careless in most of our life.
If we lift our head before we actually hit the ball, we will be more interested
in outcome than process.
If we lose sight of the beauty of the setting and view the course only as
something to conquer, we will miss the beauty of each day.
Living this wisdom actually helped improve my game. I thought I had the
essence of the game knocked until the most recent lesson arrived this past
January. It was at my father’s funeral service that I finally learned from him post mortem, his final lesson to me about golf – and life. When friends were invited to speak spontaneously during his memorial service, his golf partner rose to his feet. “As his golf partner for the past 30 years, there is one defining aspect of character that I will remember most about Bob Patnaude,” said the aged golfer. “He never took a mulligan.”
“Never took a mulligan?” I gasped. “Never? I always take a mulligan. How did I miss this one?” I asked myself. I sat stunned at this public pronouncement about this man with whom I had played golf countless times. I was with him at Pebble Beach when he birdied the famous Number 7. For years, I watched him characteristically lift his left foot and bite his lip with each shot. How had I not known that this man would not take the “free” shot that every golfer in the world has come to believe is his or her right?
I felt immense admiration for this small businessman who had suddenly become larger than life.
While there may actually be such a thing as a free lunch – there is no free shot – at least in golf.
Thanks, Dad – I think!