This is mainly due to the time spent at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga. Where is that? I hear you ask, if you know where Atlanta is, head north for just over one hundred miles, just a short hop over the Georgia/Tennessee state line and you will find the majorly revamped city of Chattanooga, nestling between Signal and Lookout Mountains.
Chattanooga was a major conflict zone during the Civil war and hub for the rail industry, hence the song “Chattanooga Choo Choo” and in the last century was the location for the majority of the bottling for Coca Cola. I was recruited to this city and University by the rascal whose photo you can see, accompanying this article.
Known as Coach by almost everyone who plays golf in Chattanooga, because of his twenty-eight years as the University’s Head Coach.
For the most part a non-paid position. More often than not, it cost him more than whatever slim pickings the University had set aside for him, due to the generosity of his nature.
So, Coach turned eighty September past and Fiona and I went out to celebrate this milestone birthday with him and his lovely wife Carla, twenty-seven years younger than Coach, hence the reference “Rascal”.
We packed a lot into the trip; a visit to Nashville, watching the Atlanta Braves play baseball, a Polo match between America and Argentina, a couple of beverages, great food and wonderful company. Southern hospitality has a reputation and deservedly so, we couldn’t have felt more welcome and been better looked after.
A little more about the photo; this was taken on the evening of his birthday at a rather posh restaurant, where we all put on our best bib and tucker and celebrated his big day. The five-dollar bill, attached to his forehead, was once mine and represents the wager for the round of golf we had played that afternoon. Guess who won….
I clearly have some things to learn regarding negotiating which tees to play from and which tees he should be playing from. I could use the excuse that I wasn’t playing with my clubs, which took some getting used to. But I was beaten fair and square because he shot seventy-eight and I shot over par.
There are so many things worthy of mention about that day. The most obvious is that he beat his age by two shots on his birthday. Secondly, that he was able to play golf on his birthday, something which most people take for granted. After two serious battles with cancer he certainly does not take anything for granted. Thirdly, he got to kick my butt around some splendid scenery, atop Lookout Mountain.
As far as I’m concerned, this picture encapsulates all that is good about golf; friendship, sportsmanship, competition and a healthy amount of banter. It took some travelling to make it happen, but it was worth every mile.
It is set in stark contrast with what seems to be a common theme with some of my lessons over the past couple of months. The theme seems to be centred around a lack of fulfilment with their golf games. Not lack of confidence, just a lack lustre feeling about their games in general. In Portugal, during this Indian summer, which we have just experienced.
It just leads me to think that if everybody, who put their clubs in the back of the car, took one minute to realise that they are getting to play golf today. Something which is a finite privilege, they might prioritise, they might be able to look beyond an errant shot or missed putt.
I’m reminded of a lyric from Bonnie Raitt’s song, “Nick of Time”:
“Life gets mighty precious, when there’s less of it to waste.”
Treasure every moment, your golf may not be beautiful but what the game offers, truly is. Happy Birthday Coach.