Finding the Ultimate Drug

It was the summer of 2007 and as I struggled to stay clean another day, grumpy, dehydrated from drinking coffee all day, and smoking cigarettes, I reluctantly agreed to go play 9 holes of golf with a co worker. I decided why the hell not, my alternative was hit another narcotics anonymous meeting after work, than head home, and what? Think about all the wrong I had done in my life… this first 9 holes would forever change my life and the direction I was headed.

Perhaps it was the calmness that the walk brought upon my soul as I carried a mix match bag of clubs down the first fairway, maybe it was the 3 seconds it took to hit my 2^nd golf shot out of the right hand rough at Little River Inn, but when the ball hit that 5 iron and lifted up into the air, over the green and into the woods, I felt like I was born again. My blood pumped, as I quickly put the club back in the bag and hustled over to where I saw the ball sailing by a red stake in the ground, all I could think about was, how great it felt, and somewhat baffled on the direction it went. I was sure, the next time I hit it I could get it where I was intending. When I never found that ball, though slightly discouraged, more embarrassed, I decided I would make a point of not losing another ball that day.  The very next ball I hit I also lost. While frustration began to set in, and my descent strikes of the golf ball became few and far between, one thing was for certain, I wasn’t thinking about anything, nothing but how to play this ridiculously hard game. No longer was my mind obsessing on my past years of a methamphetamine induced existence of lying stealing, and manipulating my peers. The shame and the guilt I carried for so long for all my wrongs, seemed to fade away, as did a small white ball each time I struck it. Why? Why does the ball drift to the right every single time? Perhaps I can just aim left, and act like I mean to hit it that way, that could be my signature?

 Just than my buddy who dragged me out there, said, “damn, you sure hit a wicked slice” . Learning you don’t want to hit a slice, I became obsessed with trying to turn the ball slightly from right to left. 5 years later, I still play a slight fade, and covet the draw. For a guy like me the grass has always been greener on the other side. But as I drove away from playing that first 9 holes, I knew something had happened, I was… in love again, not with a woman, not with a drug, but with a game, I could play for the rest of my life.

 The grass is now always greener on the golf course, than anywhere else I set foot. Fortunately after years of justifying and rationalizing my next hit, my next bag, my next high, I found it extremely easy justifying playing a healthy sport, at any opportunity.

I am the golf nut, nuts about a game one can never perfect. I don’t believe there is another golfer on the planet more crazy about this game than myself, after 5 years, I have transformed into a man who’s life is ran by golf. My life is manageable, but only as manageable as my golf game will allow.   

I have decided to let you all walk on the green grass on the other side of the fence with me, this is my story, one of a love affair with golf, this is a story about a sport saving a life, a timeless sport bridging generation gaps, and giving life a purpose again. I will share my adventures in the quest to mastering an impossible game, told through the eyes of a recovering drug attic, who found the ultimate drug after many, many years of research; it was not chasing a white bag, but chasing a white ball.