Golf is all about finding ones self, having the patience to search for a part of you long forgotten since birth. To golf is to wait for that perfect moment, where your arms and the club become one. You don’t force it, you wait. When that moment comes you don‘t hold back. Crack! That’s the sound of the club gracefully touching the grass and hitting underneath the golf ball, which seemingly floats over all obstacles. It finally reaches its destination, the hole. I often wished that school life resembled the game I love so much.


It saddens me to say that my first time golfing wasn’t the best experience of my life. As I hacked away at the grass, missing the ball entirely I asked myself, “Why am I doing this?” My freshman year, like when I was hitting from the tee, felt awkward. I knew exactly what I wanted; the flag pole on the green was as clear as day, like my goals for college, and I only had three strokes to make it onto the green. As I positioned myself for the first swing, I thought about how this moment would land me even closer to my destination. There was so much freedom, so many ways to mess up. I could rush my swing, which would eventually lead me to miss and fall behind my class. As I carefully extended my arm, with my club in the air; I patiently waited for my cue, time slowed and the earth seemed to pull at my hand. This was it; this was what I’d been waiting for. Crack! As I hit the ball it sailed over the first hill, resembling my first year of high school.


There was so much excitement in the air; Classical Magnet had just moved into a new school. I was starting my sophomore year and felt that I didn’t fit in. “I’m not college material,” I kept telling myself, I couldn’t even hit the ball far. I had always loved watching the game of golf. Tiger Woods made the game seem so easy that I often tried to copy his swing. In May 2005, I join the Classical Magnet Gladiator’s golf team. During practice I would sit down on the grass wondering what was with my swing. There were so many sand traps that I seemed to spend my time trying to get out of them than actually playing the game. There were so many times that quitting seemed logical. Getting out of the sand trap looked to be impossible, not without taking a great lost to my grade. But quitting was not an option; my friends and family were counting on me. As I chipped with my sand wedge, the ball rolled. I felt tense as I wandered if the ball would end on the green.


My junior year was the year I became determined to get the grades I desired. It felt very frustrating that the ball did not roll on green as expected. When it came time to take the S.A.T., I could not raise enough money to pay the late fee. This only pushed me harder as I came into my senior year. As I took my putter out and aligned it with the hole I hesitated. This was it! All I needed was to putt closer to the hole, an easy two putt; unlike others I had little room for mistakes. I took a couple of practice swings before putting the ball. My heart pounded as I anticipated the outcome. The ball rolled. It felt great to watch the ball nearing the hole; I had played like a pro.