Golf is a wonderful game that can be played for a lifetime. It’s fun, relaxing and endlessly challenging.
Golf is a great game for fathers and sons to play together. From the time Connor was born, I expected him to develop an interest in golf.
I bought him some junior clubs when he was younger. I enrolled him in a weeklong summer golf camp.
But my efforts have failed. Connor hates golf. Now that he’s 11and into video games and movies, he may never become a golfer.
My image of father and son strolling down the fairway together, congratulating each other on fine shots and rehashing our round over dinner, is dying.
What do I do? Do I keep trying to interest the boy in the world’s best game?
Or do I respect his wishes and lay off the golf talk.
I’ve chosen the latter. I vow not to become a pushy dad, trying to conform my son to what I’d like him to be. Sure, I wish Connor loved golf like me. And perhaps he will some day.
But I know the father-son relationship is damaged if I try to order him to be interested in something. It’s silly, really.
Aside from golf, there’s no other pursuit I hope Connor will take up. I played football through high school, but I’d be fine if he never put on a helmet. I wound up with a bum knee and can’t jog anymore.
But golf…it’s such an elegant, gentleman’s game that teaches life lessons such as competitiveness, perseverance and playing by the rules.
Oh, stop it, I have to remind myself periodically.
The only time Connor wants to accompany me to the golf course – and it’s rare – is when he takes up my offer to drive the cart.
The first few times, he loved steering the silent electric vehicle, trying to stay on the concrete path and stopping at the appropriate places. But he quickly tired of even this tiny part of golf. Compared to the speed and complexity of video games, driving a golf cart is like watching grass grow.
I get it.
So I keep going to the course by myself, playing with other guys and occasionally hearing about their sons’ golf exploits.
I’ve let go of my dream that Connor will join me on the golf course. But I haven’t gotten rid of his clubs yet. And I haven’t tucked them away in the attic.
They’re still in my closet, next to my clubs. Maybe someday his eyes will fix on them and the golf flame will ignite.
But probably not.