Sunday mornings
at Oak Hills
can get busy.
But get there early,
7:30, beat the rush,
start on that first tee
across the pond
before the parking lot fills up
and the humidity turns
the course into a swamp.
This morning
we brought a new guy.
Good high school golfer
who hadn\'t played
in a few years.
He still had it.
Short game was
a little rusty.
A few timing issues,
but the swing was there.
We showed him the course,
talked about golf,
talked about life.
Ocho, the fairway cat,
met us at the clubhouse.
That\'s one of the things
I like about this game.
You can meet somebody
on the first tee
and by the ninth hole
know things about him
you\'d never learn
sitting across a bar.
He\'s going through
the recovery house
like we did.
Now my brother and I
are getting close
to four years sober.
Funny how things change.
There was a time
when I\'d steal the moon
if I could.
Take the drink.
Take the money.
Take the night.
Take whatever
somebody was willing
to hand me.
Now we take new guys
out to Oak Hills.
Show them where to hit.
Tell them where the trouble is.
Laugh at bad shots.
Talk about life
between holes.
Maybe that\'s what
getting sober does.
You stop asking
what you can take.
You start wondering
what you can give.
A golf lesson.
A good story.
A little encouragement.
A place to belong.
Sometimes all somebody needs
is a tee box,
a few good swings,
and somebody beside him
saying,
Keep your head down.
It\'s just one shot at a time.