“Just Tees,” is my golf column. Why the title? Read on.
I have been accustomed to the gavels and objections of the courtroom than the divots and sand traps of the golf course. The title itself, “Just Tees,” was deliberate. It wasn’t about limiting the scope, but about emphasizing the often-overlooked importance of that first or the last shot.
It wasn’t just about the physics of the drive, the launch angle, the spin rate. It was about strategy, about the calculated risks inherent in every tee shot. In courtroom life, lawyers constantly weighing probabilities, assessing risks, choosing the best approach to win a case. Golf, I realized, was no different. Each tee shot is a microcosm of a legal strategy.
Take for example my last tee shot in the 18th at Binitin Golf Course in Bacolod—a par 3 they call the “gallery hole”—was a pressure cooker. Its proximity to the clubhouse meant every shot was played under the watchful eyes of the crowd. This was my second round of the 76th PAL Interclub, a recovery mission after a disastrous first game at Marapara. Facing a 179-yard, cliff-edged fairway that doglegged subtly to the right, with a slanted green, I was clinging to a 2-under net score. Just like in Marapara, I started with an out-of-bounds tee shot in hole 1 but was able to shake it off in the succeeding holes going into the 18th. A par in the 18th was therefore crucial.
My caddy suggested a 5-wood instead of my preferred 3-wood, wisely noting the wind. “Better short than over,” he whispered, “easier to get on in two.” His confidence was infectious. “Let’s do it,” I muttered, silencing the self-doubt.
Ignoring the expectant gallery—a mix of fervent team supporters and casual onlookers—I took two practice swings, visualizing a fade. The ball soared, seemingly hanging in the air forever before finally landing on the green. But the wind, a cruel mistress they say, pushed it back, rolling it towards the edge, twenty agonizing steps from the pin. But still perfect. Went exactly as planned. None of my flightmates had fared better. The lie was tough—sidehill, uphill—but I confidently selected my 11-iron. The chip shot lipped out, settling a mere six inches from the cup. Par. The gamble had paid off.
A ripple of applause washed over me from the gallery. Entering the clubhouse, I was met by a chorus of cheers and broad smiles. My teammates clapped me on the back, their congratulations warm and genuine. A golfer friend, Larry Baluso of team Apo (which capped the Aviator Division Championship), approached and congratulated me for my 44 points finish, just a point shy of his 45, the highest in his group. It was a good feeling, this sense of shared accomplishment, this quiet redemption for me.
I call it, my Binitin experience at the 18th a “legal gamble.” The wind, lie, stance, green were assessed. I am certain my flightmates were assessing my mental state when I was making my last tee off. Perhaps, if I make a slice, it would send me scrambling to take a shot down under the cliff. But it was the other way around. My gamble had paid off. The 5wood was easy, the chip even easier. Par was sweet.
That’s what “Just Tees” is about. It’s not about the flashy long drives or the miraculous chip-ins. It’s about the fundamental importance of that first or the last shot, the strategic decision-making, the calculated risks that determine the course of an entire round. It’s about the parallels between the courtroom and the golf course – the need for precision, the importance of planning, the art of managing risk. It’s about the quiet confidence of knowing you’ve made the right call, even when the odds are stacked against you. Because sometimes, the boldest strategy is the one that wins the day.
And that, my fellow golfers, is the true justice of the tee box. There you have it : Just Tees!
