Anya Ibasco A Game of Skill and Camaraderie Everyone has a favorite sport. Whether it be basketball, volleyball, or ice skating, each sport has certain aspects that cause an athlete to be filled with passion. The scenery that I experience when I am playing golf gives me a sense of calmness. I am able to focus and concentrate when taking a shot. Golf also allows me to build bonds with my teammates and opponents. As I am approaching the golf course, I feel the burden of my hefty golf bag filled with clubs, balls, and plenty of water. It is strapped onto my shoulders like a loaded backpack and with every step, I feel as if I were carrying boulders upon my back. I walk towards the tee box, a square of uprooted grass, where I will take my first swing. I feel my feet being pinched by my cleated shoes that are far too small. It s as if my feet are trapped in a tight box with nowhere to escape. The firm grass compresses beneath my feet with every step. I arrive and an array of vivid colors come into sight. I am welcomed by a vast, open fairway leading up to a flag that is planted in a tiny hole hundreds of yards away. Towering trees line the edges of the fairway and look like giant people standing against a bright, blue background. The trees serve as one of the many hazards that I desperately want to avoid. Pits of loose sand, about ten yards in diameter, act as another hazard and are scattered throughout the course. As I try to visualize my first shot, I am blinded by the sun s radiant light that shines onto everything and causes occasional beads of
sweat to trail down my face. The taste of salt rests on my tongue as a drop of sweat dribbles onto my lips. I sigh as a warm wind breezes by, giving me a small relief, like a splash of water on a scorching hot day. The smell of freshly cut grass fills my nose, as well as the scent of my recently applied sunblock. I can hear birds chirping as they swiftly fly across the sky, a squirrel scurrying up the trunk of a tree, water trickling through a stream, and the faint chatter and footsteps of other golfers as they are playing, too. As I am preparing to hit my first shot, I retrieve a long, thin tee and a bright, white golf ball from my bag. I also pull out my biggest club. It is a slender rod with a big, heavy, metal club face at one end and a rubber grip at the other. I approach the tee box and kneel down as I pierce one end of the tee into the firm grass below. The surrounding blades of grass poke and prick me until I lift my hand high enough above the ground. Unlike the rest of the course, the grass on the tee box is dying and damaged from the constant digging of clubs. I carefully balance my ball on the other end of the tee, like a ballerina balancing on the tip of her toe. The slight elevation of the ball makes it easier to hit and helps it to travel farther. I effortlessly grab a hold of my club, my fingers interlock in a certain way as they grasp the rubber handle. I have done this a thousand times before. I step towards the left side of the ball, my body parallel to the trees that line the fairway. I say to myself, Every stroke counts. I feel the firm grass beneath my feet. I take a breath, lift the weight of the club to the right side of my body, and raise it up above my shoulder at an angle. I exhale and let gravity pull the club to ground. As this happens, the club face comes into contact with the ball, the force ricochets throughout my body, starting with my hands and traveling through my arms, shoulders, and through the rest of
my body. It s as if a little firecracker has exploded within my body. I hear a high pitched Pang! like a magnified snap as
Ibasco 3 the ball flies through the air. Loose dirt sprays up from the ground and sprinkles upon my legs. I feel as it sticks onto my legs. The recently sprayed with sunblock acts like honey, attracting bugs and causing dirt to adhere to my body. The momentum of my swing causes my club to finish upon my left shoulder. I wait in that position, club on my left shoulder, body turned facing the hole, and right toe pointed towards the ground, until I see my ball land with a plop on the ground. I receive an encouraging high five from my teammate who says, Nice shot! Although the forceful slap stings my palm, a wide smile spreads across my face. I sling my golf bag, which seems to become heavier and heavier with every step, onto my back and proceed towards the new location of my ball. This routine continues throughout the game which will last for about three hours. I hear the rustling of grass as my cleats drag across its surface. What were once energetic and energized steps, become more like a trudge as time goes by. Although golf is a very long and repetitive sport, time flies by when you re playing with people who enjoy the game just as much as you do. Before the golf match begins, I hear as the coaches from both teams call out their players and place them on different flights, or groups. During a golf match, one team plays another. However, the teams are split up into multiple flights with two people from your own team and another two from the opposing team. My coach s mellow voice signals me, along with another teammate, to walk towards the front of the crowd of golf players. We anxiously meet the two opponents with whom we will be playing against throughout this course. Names are exchanged amongst the four of us and we oblige in shaking hands as a sign of good sportsmanship. The camaraderie in golf is unique to most sports. The hours that we
spend with our opponents allow us to get to know each other s personality, school, and friends, a little bit more. As I hit another ball, it disappears into a line of giant trees.
Ibasco 4 They remind me of skyscrapers, the sight of them stretching far beyond what my eyes can see. The white ball soaring through the sky became a speck in mid-air and suddenly vanished. As my teammate and I began searching among the deep blades of grass, dying underbrush, and chocolate brown tree trunks, for what we thought might be a lost ball, our two opponents helped us in finding the ball. I hear as the dead leaves crunch beneath my feet and I smell the scent of tree bark. Eventually, the ball was located and we were able to continue our game. Although we are competing against each other, we help in finding lost balls, acknowledge when someone hits a good shot, and trust each other with score keeping. Throughout the practices and courses that I play with my teammates, we become a more unified group. We all want what is best for each other and for the team, therefore we help each other out. As I am taking my shots, especially when I am putting my ball into a tiny hole on the green, I hear the reassuring voice of my teammates assisting me in where to aim. I feel the smooth putting green graze fingertips as I crouch down to aim my ball. The green of each hole has many curves and uneven surfaces which make it difficult to putt it in the hole. My teammates can see these dangers and it is up to me to listen and trust their advice. What began with a few words of encouragement, becomes a bond of friendship. This bond does not only apply to golf, but to other aspects, too, such as in school and in social activities. The wins and losses that we experience together as a team encourage us to support each other and strive to be the best we can be.
Golf is a sport that I greatly enjoy. It gives me a sense of calm and intensity in a world that is unpredictable and fast-paced. Golf gives me the opportunity to observe my surroundings, focus on my game, and create strong friendships.