Putting during a scramble is different. Being one member of a four-person team inside of a golf tournament. Each shot we hit and each putt we attempt, our team gets four opportunities to play. Playing in a scramble for the first-time can be a whirlwind experience. The format feels much different from any regular round of golf. Where you would be hitting your own golf shots and creating a score on your own. However, playing on a team has always felt exciting. Golf has given me the ability to play in many team events. My first time playing in a scramble probably happened somewhere during my junior high school years. I remember playing in many scramble tournaments throughout my high school and college years. Having fun with a group of friends. There have been times when I have played on serious scramble teams. Where our group might have been one of a few, who could post the lowest score. But, most of the time, I have been playing for the enjoyment of an event. A chance at playing golf in a different way, different from the way most golf is played. The trips to La Grande over the years have been for fun. We normally aren’t one of the few teams competing to finish towards the top. I like to think we do it for the fun and comradery. While, helping out for a good cause. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel pressure during the playing of the tournament.
I have been on scramble teams that include a lot of structure. On the teams, I played with growing up, we would go into a tournament with a plan of action. We played a lot of golf together throughout the year. Therefore, we had a good understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of each player. Leading us to set up the team within the parameters of knowing one another. With four players on the team, we would have an order of who would hit the shot first, second, third, or fourth. The more talented player at a given shot, would probably hit last, after watching the shots of their teammates. At other times, we might not have the wealth of knowledge from playing rounds and rounds of golf together. Making it more challenging to completely identify how a team balances each other. The scramble tournaments we play in La Grande, carry this element of mystery, which leads to a different kind of day. The sequence in which we hit any particular golf shot can change. Usually, we have begun starting with the person who’s shot we chose. Meaning someone could play a hole on their own, if we continued choosing their shots, as the best. Following that first person, the lineup tends to become pretty random. For me, I have often hit early in a scramble group. Having the ability to hit pretty straight golf shots.
There is another reason I tend to like hitting early in the scramble order. I have always felt that the nerves of playing in a scramble can impact my performance. Usually, the idea would be for the individual most immune to any pressure, to hit last in the order. Because, if all else goes wrong, they might be the only person who can bail out the team, with a good shot. This fact seems to become especially important when hitting putts on the greens. If three team members putt first and all three miss the putt. Everything boils down to the final team member, to make the putt. Being the final person to strike a putt that the three previous members have missed, has never been a place I wanted. Like my putting challenges, while playing golf with my own golf ball. My hands might start shaking or I might experience a sudden spasm. This happens to me when the only pressure is on myself. An entirely new layer would be added when playing in a team event. The anxiety of the team, hoping for me to make the putt, and my attempt providing the final opportunity. The challenge inside my emotions has never felt as simple as not wanting to let down teammates. It also has to do with not wanting to stick out in a crowd. My having more concern over being accepted, than not wanting to let people down. Failure has always felt like the best means for me to achieve acceptance.
Working on acceptance through failure feels like the way I have most often operated. Meaning if three people miss a putt in front of me, I’m likely to miss, as well. Whether I blame the miss on a trembling of my hands. Or, an overall shakiness in my body, exacerbated by my disability. I’m always looking for a way of being included. Not really wanting to stick out from the crowd. Feeling like any time in my life, the spotlight might have found me, has led to hurtful jabs, making me feel isolated. I will admit these feelings might have to do with my own perceptions. Which, could in fact, be inaccurate. However, I have historically felt myself emotionally fold, when the opportunity arises to succeed. In my estimation, it has a lot to do with codependency inside of me, and a desperation for being accepted. To the extent, of trying to live a life in the shadows, without ruffling any feather. Another of these situations presented itself on the green of the eighteenth hole, at Buffalo Peak. During the scramble in La Grande, we were playing out our ninth hole of the day. Our pitch shot from off the green, left the team with about a three-foot putt to make par. To this point of our tournament, we had been struggling through the first set of golf holes. Making more bogeys, than we had been used to making in previous years. We were struggling to right the ship before our final nine holes.
There didn’t seem to be anything too tricky about the putt. I wasn’t giving the short three-footer much thought, at all. Never imagining I would be called upon to strike the putt. The third member of our team stepped up to the putt. Boasting it was the final chance for our team to convert the three-footer. I don’t know if he didn’t realize I hadn’t struck the putt yet, or just figured I wouldn’t be able to make it, if he had missed. Well, his attempt rolled off to the right side, similar to the two tries before his. The final chance for making par on our ninth hole of the day, would come down to my putter blade. In years gone by, somewhere deep inside my head, my insecure and desperate mind would have influenced me to miss the putt. To make the comment of the third member of our team correct. That he was the final hope for the putt to be converted. I think my desperation has been doing this to me, for my entire life. Never allowing me to take a situation like this one and find some belief in myself. In my mind, the best way of continuing to be accepted, would be to miss the putt. To make the third member of the team correct. My mind would have been more concerned with fitting in and my body would follow. Having some kind of spasm occur in my hands, sending the putter blade off line, and the golf ball dodging the cup. The cerebral palsy in my body would predictably lead to failure. Making me the sheep and more easily accepted. All of these thoughts played in my mind, I was familiar with the emotion.
Stepping up to make the putt attempt, the words of my teammate range in my ears. He had been the final chance for us to make the par. I looked over the path of the putt, waited for some kind of doubt to enter my mind. Some kind of fear to creep in, telling me to keep being the sheep, like so many other moments. When my eyes moved back over the three feet of grass, leading towards the hole, those negative thoughts weren’t on the emotional surface. I was thinking about making a solid stroke with the putter. Back and through was the concept ringing over and over, in my head. Just like I had spent the winter putting golf balls along the carpet in my bedroom. I knew it was possible to swing the putter without the trembling in my hands. A new confidence had been created during the breaks I had taken from writing. My mind told me not to worry about what they might think. Try not to be the victim of whatever might be going on and concentrate on making a solid stroke. I took one more look at the cup. Letting my eyes wonder back to the golf ball, along the line I intended for the ball to travel. One more listen to my mind, told me to only think about making the putt. My arms began the motion, as the putter blade moved backward, away from the ball. Still, no seed of doubt could be heard, just the same calm voice reminding me to strike the golf ball solidly. Without a last-minute whisper in fear of rejection, that would surely have caused my hands to tremble. I released the putter blade towards the golf ball.
The swing of the putter went back and through, just as I planned. There was no tremble in my arms or spasm in my hands. I could feel a new kind of strength in my mind. The kind that wouldn’t allow me to choke with fear. The golf ball tumbled end over end on its journey to the cup. My swing of the putter felt purely executed. Providing that little feeling just after striking the golf ball. I had little doubt, the putt was going to be made. When the golf ball fell into the heart of the cup, arriving with the ideal amount of speed. There was no outward celebration of the par, we had just carded. We didn’t give each other a high-five, or pats on the back. Our team simply moved on to the next hole and began the second nine. The thing no other team member understood was, my life just changed. I had just proven to myself that I could stand on my own, without concern over trying to fit. As the second nine holes played themselves out. I was presented with another couple short putts, which I found the courage to step up, and knock into the cup. The moment was one of not selling myself short. Not believing that just because someone else can’t do something, I can’t do it either. The moment in time had been earned through years of growth and one I will use to help me grow further.
A Journey With Cerebral Palsy 