I watched my friend finish the round of his life, and it was a thrill
The scene: Me, at home on Saturday, doing parent things, and waiting for my aunt to come visit. I was definitely not playing golf, but I was getting a series of texts from my friend Galen as proof that even when you're away from golf, golf is not away from you. They told a succinct but thrilling story:
"Even through 10."
"Birdied 10 and 11. Under par."
"Under par through 15."
"-1 on 17 tee."
It was the last one that got me. I live five minutes from our beloved Hillandale Golf Course here in Durham, N.C., and I knew I had to get down there ASAP. I also knew Galen would want me there (I asked anyway, to be sure, but I knew)—we're the kind of weirdos who like to have a document of these moments, whether we triumph gloriously or choke our guts out. We love those rare moments when golf delivers true pressure, and in some strange way, our instinct is to up the ante and blow it out to ridiculous proportions.
My friendship with Galen is a true golf friendship. I met him on a golf course, and I can probably count on one hand the number of times we've hung out away from the golf course. At the same time, I consider him one of my best friends, and we're always together on the course. We have won and lost matches as teammates, won and lost devastating matches playing against each other, delighted and annoyed each other in equal measure, and generally experienced the best of what this sport has to offer.
When I shot my personal-best 75 two summers ago, Galen was there rooting for me and filming the last three holes, building up my moment and making me the center of attention even though it was his birthday. He's a better golfer than me in every way, but when I went on a heater and shot a 74 last summer, I seized the mantle of best lifetime score between us by a single shot. Now that it was clear he was going to shatter the record (probably permanently) and had a chance to do the unthinkable by breaking par for a full round, it was time to return the favor.
I grabbed my camera, hit mostly green lights on the short drive, grabbed a cart key from Zach at the front desk and caught him just after he two-putted for par on 17.
The situation was simple and intense: He walked to the last tee at one under par, a lifetime accomplishment within his grasp. The par-5 18th at Hillandale is theoretically one of the easier holes on the course (the No. 16 handicap) but OB runs all along the left, dangerous on the tee shot and approach, and is a graveyard of dreams for people like us. The tee shot in particular would be squarely in the teeth-rattling, squeaky-bum realm of challenges.
More than anything, though I didn't want to say it out loud, I knew I was witnessing the biggest moment of his golf life, and very possibly a chance he wouldn't get again. It was extremely exciting, even secondhand, and even knowing the last little advantage I had on him in our rivalry was about to evaporate.
Check out the video below, which I threw together yesterday, for the thrilling conclusion:
It was clinical stuff … well at least after flirting with disaster on the drive—a bold, hooking 7-wood that came that flirted with OB. He laid up with his second, then hit a 100-yard approach to 15 feet that made par all but inevitable. The only tragedy left was a potential three-putt, but as he said in the video, he'd had the speed all day, and unlike Jacob Bridgeman at Riviera on Sunday, Galen didn't give himself undue stress on the tap-in. He collapsed when it was over, and considering the tension he had been carrying the entire back nine, I'm surprised he didn't stay down longer.
That, in its essence, is what we're chasing as recreational golfers (or at least those of us who care—more than we should—about our results): The feeling of reaching the peak of our potential and rising to the pressure-packed moment on those rare days when everything works. It's something that, once possessed, can never be taken away. I'm glad I was there to see it.