Face Plant Number One

In order to become a PGA-member golf professional the first of many challenges is to successfully negotiate what’s known as the Playing Ability Test, or PAT. It’s a one-day, 36-hole test of ability against par. It’s not a competition against the other golfers, just the course. Historically, it’s the primary roadblock that keeps would-be professionals from advancing to the education portion of the program. I passed the PAT on my fourth try. Considering how the first three attempts went, that was nothing short of miraculous. Here’s how PAT attempt number two went. It was the late 1990s, and I’d been working feverishly on my game all summer. Still somewhat gun shy after the first disaster, I finally bit the bullet and decided to give it another stab. I’d been playing relatively well in the weeks leading up to it, and my expectations of a passing score were realistic, or so I thought. Come test day, I was ready. I won’t lie to you—I looked really good that day, too. Sweet pants, cool shirt, matching hat, shiny new shoes, and a brand-new hooded navy blue jacket. The problem with my attire, however, was that it was totally wrong for the conditions. It was cold and windy, and if you’ve ever tried to play golf in a hooded lightweight jacket in a windstorm, you know exactly what happened next. I started out with a par—four strokes batter than my first test. But on the second tee box, I made up for the good start. At the top of my backswing, a gust of wind kicked up and whipped my hood around the club shaft. As I started my downswing, I could feel the tangled resistance. I wasn’t sure what had happened, and instinctively finished the swing. But, as I did so, my jacket was pulled up over my head at the same time—like a hockey player getting the bad end of a beating. Somehow I contacted the ball. It dribbled exactly 9 feet forward and tumbled off the elevated tee box and into the thick rough on the downslope. I didn’t actually see the result of the shot, as my cool new jacket wasn’t equipped with a window. But I’ll bet it looked pretty impressive. There aren’t many times this can actually be true—but it would’ve been better had I whiffed. At least I could’ve hit the ball from the tee again. As it was, I had to go back to my bag and get the lob wedge, then slash my ball out of the thicket. Luckily, I advanced the ball into the fairway, but the psychological damage was done. It’s tough to rebound from something like that—especially when my co-competitors were laughing hysterically at me. The gale blew all day, and it actually started to snow at one point. Perfect. I finished dead last (again) by a million, but I actually completed the rounds and posted a score, which at that point in my career was a major accomplishment in itself. I came home frozen, embarrassed, and defeated, but with a story to tell and an important lesson learned about preparing to play tournament golf.