Humility 101: Playing TPC Snoqualmie Ridge | For the Love of the Game

Published 2:08 pm Thursday, August 4, 2011

Calling myself an amateur golfer would be an insult to all things amateur. My skills are limited to what I remember from my two quarters of twice-weekly golf class during college (insert backhanded remark about Oregon’s academics here). While I do own a set of clubs, they have seen far more of the inside of my closet than the light of day on the links.

So when I received an invitation to play TPC Snoqualmie Ridge for Boeing Classic Media Day, I didn’t exactly jump at the opportunity. I know, who could complain about a free lunch and round of golf at a professional-quality course? Eventually I relented, deciding that the lunch and scenic views from the course would be more than enough to defray my terrible golf game.

The first hole we played was my worst nightmare come true.

The first ball I hit squealed off the end of my driver almost at a 90 degree angle from the tee. Commence disaster sequence. “It can’t get any worse from here,” I (prematurely) thought. It did.

My second tee shot ended-up in the fairway but my third was another headache, mercilessly coming to rest in a six-foot deep bunker in front of the green. Not being at a total loss for the etiquette of the game, I know grounding a club in a bunker results in a penalty stroke and even though I wasn’t keeping score, it’s just generally bad form, especially when playing with someone for the first time, as I was. Plus I run the risk of enduring a “club grounding in a bunker” speech, which at this point would not have been well received.

After my first two hacks left the ball rolling back in my face, it became immediately apparent getting out of this mammoth sand trap was going to take a little more focus. My third shot looked good, getting airborne before coming to rest on a slight lip on the face of the bunker. I turned to grab the rake, feeling slightly relieved when I got the sense my playing partners were watching me, cringing. I turned back around just in time to see the ball finish rolling back down at my feet, in the sand.

Two attempts later I finally escaped, only to three-putt and take my 11, tail firmly affixed between my legs.

The day got better from there, but not by much. The only saving grace was that my playing partners, staff photographer Chad Coleman (who notched his first career birdie that day) and the Boeing Classic representative we were paired with, are both stand-up guys and carried themselves as such for our entire round despite my less-than-stellar performance.

I owe a big thanks to both of them for not piling on. After all, the course was already providing all the lessons in humility I could handle for one day.