One of the great joys of life is when an unexpected opportunity turns into an unforgettable experience—one that leaves you grateful for good friends, good fortune and the chance to do something you never imagined doing.
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For me, one of those experiences was a recent golf trip to TPC Sawgrass in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida.
For those who don’t follow golf, TPC Sawgrass is a bucket-list destination for millions of golfers around the world. It is home to The Players Championship and the famous 17th hole, with its island green surrounded by enough water to make even an experienced golfer nervous.
As an amateur golfer—and I use the word “amateur” in its truest sense—I felt some trepidation about walking onto the same pristine course where Scottie Scheffler, Rory McIlroy and the best players in the world compete.
My golf history includes a few unfortunate etiquette violations. I once sneezed in the middle of another golfer’s backswing. On another occasion, I forgot to latch my golf bag onto the cart. As I drove away, my clubs, balls, tees and everything else spilled out for nearly 100 yards. I then had to collect them sheepishly while dozens of people watched from the clubhouse windows.
With that kind of résumé, TPC Sawgrass had every reason to be concerned about my arrival.
Our group reached the course a few minutes before our tee time, and the starter asked where we were from. When we said West Virginia, his eyes lit up.
His wife was from Buckhannon, and he had many nice things to say about our home state. He mentioned several places he had visited during a lifetime of trips to West Virginia. That brief connection immediately made us feel welcome.
He also gave us a few helpful instructions for navigating the course: Stay on the cart path and keep up the pace. He warned that we didn’t want the course marshal paying us a visit.
Then he pointed us toward the 10th hole, where we would begin our round.
Waiting at the tee box was Hoyle, our forecaddie. A friendly young man from Louisiana, Hoyle explained that he would stay ahead of us, locate our shots and use his knowledge of the course to guide us.
Since this was only my second time playing with a caddie, my nerves were already on edge.
I walked onto the 10th tee carrying my driver. A combination of sand and water stared back at me. At that moment, I had three modest goals: Don’t miss the ball completely, don’t hit it into the water and don’t bury it in the enormous sand trap.
I gripped the club, swung and sent my drive down the middle of the fairway. It was a far cry from where the professionals usually land, but I didn’t care. I had survived my opening drive at TPC Sawgrass.
It took me another three or four shots to reach the beautifully manicured green—and three more to finish the hole. Putting on professional greens is an entirely different experience. What feels like a gentle tap can send the ball rolling 30 feet past the cup.
Needless to say, I gained a new appreciation for professional golfers who play courses like this under tournament pressure and make it look easy.
Golf in Florida during July presents another challenge: heat and humidity that can quickly drain your strength. Our group of eight kept the beverage carts busy supplying us with cold water and Gatorade.
Whoever decided that 18 holes was the perfect length for a round of golf had clearly never played in Florida in July.
Still, the day could not have been better. Our sweaty group had a wonderful time making our way around one of the most famous golf courses in the world.
Then came the legendary 17th hole.
I am proud to say that I eventually landed a ball on the island green. When we later told the story, we may not have emphasized that it took three attempts to get there. Some details are better left on the scorecard.
After finishing the round, we headed into the restaurant to cool down and recount our greatest putts, longest drives and near-miraculous recoveries. As golfers often do, we polished the stories almost as carefully as the grounds crew polishes the course.
I won’t reveal my final score, except to say that it reached triple digits. I was also proud that I didn’t lose a ball during the entire round, although that accomplishment probably had more to do with Hoyle’s eagle eyes than with my golfing ability.
People often say that a bad day on the golf course is better than a good day at work. On that hot July day at TPC Sawgrass, I understood exactly what they meant.
But the day was about much more than golf or a scorecard. It was about friendship, laughter and the unexpected opportunity to walk onto a course I had watched so many times on television.
Long after I forget the number of strokes I took, I will remember how fortunate I felt to be there—and how grateful I was for the friends who shared the experience with me.
