Bucket of Balls

The description of his reaction I received was "His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree!" I had called home on a Friday afternoon, said I was leaving work early and asked my son if he wanted to go hit a bucket of balls. (Working what have been 60-70 hours weeks of late has made that VERY unusual!)

Now, HE'S a golfer- shooting in the 80's or sometimes 90's. But for 16 that's great. He wants badly to play more. I should have helped that happen more. I'M a hacker- shooting in the realm just past embarrassment. But we went and we got the LARGE buckets and we started hitting.

It was a blast. He can drive the ball almost 300 yards. It's that whole control thing that he....and I.... struggle with. Just like when he was pitching in baseball or trying to score a goal in soccer. Plenty of power- plenty of skill- trying to harness all that and bring it under control.

We bonded- but I believe men bond differently than women. I don't mean this as some sexist rant at all, I just think it's different sometimes. We didn't say a lot. The act of asking had said so much. His excitement at going had also said so much. A couple of "wows!" from me interspersed by the old Dad willfully accepting coaching tips from the more experienced son did quite a lot. After about 20 balls, I broached, "So when is Homecoming?" He responded with the date. "Gonna go?" I asked. And there he went- talking about the young ladies he likes and who he might go with and who broke up with who and all the things a dad loves to hear but sons don't always want to say.

It was an incredible afternoon- and long overdue. I don't really like golf all that much, but I can tell I'm going to be playing more and more.