I first played golf at the age of twelve and a half. It wasn’t something I volunteered for, more an enforced lesson in parental discipline following an unfortunate incident involving my mother’s beloved Fiat 124 Sports Coupe and a brick wall. After a strict two-week curfew, my reprieve came in the form of caddying for my dad. Not quite what I had in mind when celebrating my lifted sanctions, but I jumped at the chance to get out the house.
By the 2nd hole even my dad could sense I was bored out of my tiny mind. He handed me a 7-iron, a tee and ball. I swung wildly and like a fired up cannon ball my Dunlop 65i spurted forward an impressive 35 yards. I was ecstatic and instantly hooked. And so my caddying career ended and my love for golf began. My spirits were uplifted, even if my ball was not for the remaining holes.
