Life is a sport. Golf is more serious. Music is the great equalizer.
It’s good to be back once again in my home base. Davao it is. Experienced once again the morning breeze brushing my cheek as we walked on the fairways of my home course, the Apo Golf. Nothing excites me in my morning routine than feeling the grass underneath as we traverse the fairways and seeing my ball waltzing and splitting the morning dew on top of the green before disappearing unto the cup. Birdie? nope, too early. Par is a bonus.
Still feeling the hangover from my sojourn in the CDO a week ago, golfin with my friends from the media. We had fun and shared a lot of memories.
It’s fun sharing the cart with Igan Clavio my Day One flighmate and sharing the table for breakfast with my partner Danny Buenafe discussing the latest news from the grape vine with Karambola’s Conrad Banal, while the silent and mysterious Anthony Suntay sipping his fresh orange juice from Del Monte.
The missed putts, the Choco vims, few jabongs but I cherished most the music we shared after the rounds. The timeless Mona Lisa rendition of Jake Ayson still ringing my ears and the immoral Imagine of John Lennon made to life by Al Mendoza, the king of sports writing.
Breakfast time is the lightest moment for us golfers when we all lower our guards, share jokes, laughter and the breakfast while killing away our time waiting for our van. But upon seeing the clubhouse of the golf course after an hour of travel, the mood changes. It’s now another story. Unknowingly the mood suddenly changes into fight mode. Golf is serious. Let’s play ball. Fooooooore.
As we walked back into the clubhouse after dropping the last putt on Hole No 18, its back to normal once again. You don’t need to ask question of how the game was? Just a mere look on the golfer’s faces is enough to get the whole story. The body English and the forlorn look are enough to convey the message.
Life is like a round of golf. We need to move on as we go along each shot. Hazards are always there, the lies may not be perfect but we should not let these challenges destroy the spirit and joy of the game. I always keep a song in my heart whenever I hit some bad shots, that is if my mouth is disciplined enough not to blurt first those expletives. I always tried to hum a song, yes and sometimes I succeeded. At least I tried hard. The 18-hole round is too short and sweet enough, Don’t let it slip away.
Until then in Bacolod next year, I can’t wait. For now, I will spend more time to practice. One hour in the morning and another hour in the evening before I retire. I need to be prepared since everyone is expecting me to play with them and that’s where the pressure comes. I need to spend more time and practice hard playing my Piano.
Yes, true love’s a many splendored thing.
