I played the other day with Steve, using the Hogan persimmon woods. I hit the fairway woods okay, but I couldn't hit the driver to save my life. After one particularly ugly drive I looked at Steve in disgust and said, "I used to be able to bomb it with this club. Now look at me."
Steve said, "Just be grateful that there was a time when you could bomb it. Some people never experience that."
He had a good point. Sure it was fun to be able to hammer the ball, but life moves on and you have to accept that things change and you need to adapt. The fact is, in this game, as long as you can swing a club, you can figure out a way to play and enjoy the game. I'm just trying to find a way to swing the club that doesn't hurt. Most days I'm okay until I hit a fat shot. Fat shots are killers for my back and neck.
Today I struggled mightily. I was in pain before I even started and was experiencing back spasms. No matter how I tried to swing the club, it was uncomfortable. Finally, on the last hole, utterly discouraged and fed up, I left my tee shot short of the par three green. But something came over me as I stood over the ball and I said to the boys, "I'm just going to knock this in."
Don't you know I did just that? That ball went in the hole like it had eyes, breaking about three feet as it curled down the hill and hit the flagstick dead center. That's probably the golfing gods throwing me a crumb--reminding me that If I just don't quit, good things can happen--even if I can't break an egg with the driver.