Golf’s Fresh Start

All golfers look forward to that first round of the year to usher in the spring. The advertising of The Masters Tournament gins people up and Jim Nantz’s smooth voice echoes. Clubs are polished and dreams of shooting 75 pop into the mind. My 2015 inaugural round in the desert-like interior British Columbia fortunately happens to be earlier than most Canadians who are still shovelling show with a snarl. Did you know Canada has a true desert, one and a half hours south of where I live in West Kelowna? Yes, that means rattlesnakes and coyotes that you would see in an old Clint Eastwood spaghetti Western. This throws people off when all they think about is Bob and Doug McKenzie in their pretty toques and their warped visions of the Great White North.

The local club, Shannon Lake Golf Club, is going through a year of change. This is their fresh start after unfortunately seeing their clubhouse demolished by arson. As I examined the new and improved version I was impressed with its cozy feel. Half way down the stairs to the pro shop I saw a young man pressing an ice bag wrapped in a towel to his head. This could only mean one thing. The wounded victim told me that he had been struck by a golf ball in the parking lot and then the ball deflected off his car. Not what he was expecting on his visit. His year of change had multiple components.

I chose the golf course because it was close and I liked how I was received two years ago before the fire. John was equally as courteous this time. A friendly man in the pro shop sets the tone of your day and leaves an impression, good or bad. He let me know there was a re-routing of the course to make it more convenient for golfers to stop off in the clubhouse between nines. Smart strategy.

Sunday afternoons at most clubs are usually a quiet time to play. But the course was packed and I was happy to see people were elated to be out in the sunshine. Golfing fever had grabbed the young and old. Some evidence of consumed beverages were neatly stacked by tees so people were having fun. I saw young lads with untucked t-shirts swinging irons and laughing at shots. Older gentlemen in carts looked to be enjoying their beloved routine of many years. We laughed and kind of cringed when we witnessed a young father examining his very young son’s attempt at a swing. The tyke whiffed the ball about seven times on the tee with the club thudding into the ground each time. Well, at least he has the tenacity that this game warrants.

I was pleasantly surprised at the challenge of the newly routed nine. Some shots fired off the club while others dribbled into trouble. They all were all gladly accepted at face value. My wife hit the perfect 3-iron on the sixth hole and I told her she could walk directly to the clubhouse now that she had mastered this extremely easy game of golf. She unfortunately didn’t take me up on this offer and proceeded to topple the next shot. Well, golf offers you perfection but it is rare. Pursuit of the next great shot keeps us coming back.

After finishing the par-3 seventh, we walked for a few minutes down a secluded cart path and saw a pretty sight. There were at least six aluminum fishing boats in Shannon Lake with fishermen lazily searching for that epic fish they could brag to their friends about on the weekend. Number 8 was a tough par 4 crossing water a couple of times with bunkers hugging the corner.

From the fairway I viewed the young father with his toddler who had cut in behind us and were now standing on the tee. It was clear he just loved being out in nature, playing this wonderful sport and sharing valuable time with his son. The final hole on the front nine is another tough par 4 with a small creek running across the front of the green. Alison saw an unidentified creature in the water and was startled. Is Caddyshak’s Carl Spackler around to help?

We finished the enjoyable round and headed to the nearby parking lot. I looked back to see how the father/son duo was progressing and smiled. As I put the clubs in the car I heard the vaunted word “Fore” with an exclamation mark. My hands automatically went to my head and I bent down. I think the ball must have struck a car but alas, not me. As a golfing gentlemen, he approached us to give a genuine apology. I am glad my year of change did not start with a ball indentation in my thigh or a ding in the car. What are you looking for in your fresh start of the golfing year?