Growing up, my dad would always tell me, “Do unto others what you would have others do unto you.” It’s a simple and timeless concept, but it’s so often ignored.

The Indiana High School State Championship Tournament concluded this past week. My nephew, playing on a very good team, made it all the way to the state finals. Following his success and rooting for him in a family text string that included my dad, brought me back to one of the most crushingly painful episodes of my athletic career.

Chasing a Dream

When I was a senior in high school, I was the No. 1 player on a mediocre golf team. I had wonderful teammates, but none of them were elite golfers. There was no way we were going to make it out of sectionals as a team. I knew that if I wanted to advance to the state tournament, I was going to have to do it on my own. I had realistic dreams of playing college golf, but I still needed to prove myself in competition. My game was still developing so I desperately needed the additional rounds in the state tourney to get acclimated to high pressure golf. There weren’t many more opportunities for me to do so. I was running out of time. Playing well in sectionals was my best chance to build momentum going into the summer and fall.

As often happens in competitive golf with a crowd watching on the first tee, I had a terrible case of the jitters and was just happy to make contact with the ball. My second shot missed the green entirely. I ended up making a six foot putt…for bogey. Ugh. After a very disappointing par on the second hole, an easy par 5, I made yet another bogey to put me 2 over par after three holes. This was a bad start and I was not on pace to make the cut.

Collecting myself, I focused on my breathing and calming down. Then I took a deep breath and hit a great six iron on No. 4, a 170-yard par 3. I drained the putt for birdie which put me back on pace to be in contention! Most importantly, I had settled down and begun to hit my stride. My confidence was surging and I whispered to myself, “Ok! Here we go!” as I picked the ball out of the hole.

A Costly Mistake

My threesome walked up the hill to the next tee, put our bags down, pulled out our drivers, and waited for the group in front of us to clear. Strangely, one of my competitors suddenly began making small talk—a lot of it. Normally, competitive golf involves very little chit-chat, but this kid suddenly just wanted to talk. I politely listened and engaged with him, thinking perhaps he was nervous and simply trying to keep himself calm too.

Because of my birdie, I had the honors and teed off first. Fresh off that confidence-building putt, I smoked a drive into perfect position for my approach shot. Mentally, I had shifted from a nervous and defensive mindset to a new one. I was now hunting birdies! The second kid was placing his tee into the ground when the third one smiled and called a penalty on me. He laughed at me. He actually laughed at me. Then he turned around and started walking toward the back tee box about 30 yards behind us.

During all normal high school golf competitions, we played the standard white tees. But in the sectionals, they made the course more challenging by having us play the championship tees, which were blue. On the first four holes, it was easy to remember to play the blues because they were only slightly behind the whites. But on this particular hole, they were so far back that you couldn’t see them from the white tees. I didn’t even know there was a tee box back there.

Then it dawned on me. The two of us were so focused on our games that we simply followed habit and walked to the whites. The third kid—the one who had suddenly started talking so much—was clearly distracting us from remembering that we were supposed to play the blues. He even took out his own driver and stood next to us as we waited for the fairway to clear. You could tell he took great pleasure in pointing out my mistake. That is what really shook me.

Of course, he was absolutely correct that I had committed an infraction. Of course, it was solely my own responsibility to remember to tee off from the correct tees. But the kind of sportsmanship I learned from the men who taught me the game would never have allowed this. You just don’t let a competitor make that kind of mistake, let alone try to entice him into a penalty by distracting him. It felt malicious. That malice and betrayal of basic sportsmanship along with my anger at myself for such a stupid mistake shook me.

By the rules of golf, I had to tee off again, this time from the correct tees. My drive would count as the third swing of the hole. At this point in my life, I was young and not yet mentally tough. My emotions got the best of me. I hit a shaky drive and made a natural bogey. With the 2 stroke penalty, that meant a triple bogey, and I was now 4 over par after five holes.

Still mentally reeling, it took me several holes to calm down. Oh my emotions! A couple more bogeys ensued. When I finally did pull myself together, I played the back nine really really well, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

I missed the cut by two strokes. Despite being one of the better high school players in the region, I was out. Besides being very embarrassed by this, it was a devastating blow to my dream of making the golf team at my future school, Notre Dame. How could a guy make the team at a major university when he couldn’t even make it out of sectionals?

In competitive golf, you keep score for your opponent, and at the end of the round your opponent checks the card and signs it to attest that it is correct. The kid who tricked me was keeping my score. In general, I’m a peacemaker, not a fighter, but when I signed the card and handed it back to him, I literally almost punched him in the face.

Happily, I did not. Dad was standing nearby!

A Happy Ending

I spent the rest of the summer preparing for tryouts at Notre Dame in the coming fall. I began to play some of the best golf I ever played in my life. I even beat my dad for the first time. He was a very good golfer and beating him seemed like I was crossing a threshold. They say the day you beat your dad in golf can be both the happiest and saddest day of your life. Happiest because you’ve finally arrived! The protégé finally equals the mentor! Saddest, because your childhood hero has been dethroned. I never wanted to see my dad lose to anyone. So I had mixed feelings. But Dad, always a proponent of mental toughness, helped me to prepare for what came next. When I arrived on campus, I was feeling much more confident. I ended up shooting 77-72-74-69=292 in tryouts and I made the team! Most satisfying was handling the pressure of that final round. I actually had to make a severe sidehill 3-foot putt for birdie on the last hole. It was the only time in my life that I broke 70 in formal competition.

Because of that incident in sectionals, I was better prepared for the pressure of collegiate golf. Even today – 40 years later – I feel like I am mentally tougher. I learned to bounce back, but I also learned that my dad was right. What that kid did was cruel and unnecessary, but the responsibility for my score still was on me. I also learned that the best way to live is to live by the Golden Rule.

Thanks Dad. I love you!