My Kid’s Wild Ride At The USGA Qualifier
Alright, so this whole adventure started months ago when my son Charlie, who’s ten, got obsessed with golf. I mean, crazy obsessed. Wanted to practice every single day after school, even when it was drizzling. We live near this public course, so he practically became part of the furniture there. He’d bug the pro shop guys for range tokens, haul that little golf bag that was almost bigger than him.
Practice routine? It was brutal, honestly. He’d be out there hitting balls until sunset.
- Driving Range First: Start with the small irons, hitting them really short and slow. Trying to make clean contact, which is tough for anyone, let alone a kid his size.
- Then The Big Stick: Work up to driver. Lots of whiffs at first. I mean, sometimes you’d see this giant swing and the tee barely moved. But then he started hitting some. Little low bullets mostly.
- Short Game Hell: Then it was chipping and putting for hours. This is where most people get cooked, especially kids. You gotta have touch. He’d drop balls all over the practice green, trying to chip over mounds, putt from weird angles. Drove the groundskeeper nuts.
Anyway, the idea popped into his head – “Dad, I want to try the USGA Junior Am qualifier.” I looked it up. This thing is for older kids, mostly teens, and it’s legit hard. Scores usually in the low 70s or better. I told him straight: “Buddy, this is serious. You might shoot 90-something and feel terrible.” But the kid? Stubborn as a mule. “I can do it,” he says. So, I shelled out the entry fee, figured it was a hard lesson coming.
The Tournament Day Arrived
First tee time, early morning at this long, tough course. Other kids looked huge, like grown men almost. Charlie? Looked tiny. Nervous energy off the charts. His hands were shaking holding the first tee.
The Front Nine Meltdown: Oh man, it started rough. Very rough. Nerves got him bad. First tee shot? Barely made contact. Thin shots everywhere. Putting was a disaster – blowing everything way past the hole. Ended up shooting somewhere near 50 on the front nine. I’m walking along, trying to be encouraging, but inside I’m just hoping he doesn’t burst into tears right there on the course. He was pale.
Halftime Pep Talk (Sort Of): At the turn, we sat down. Got a hot dog. I didn’t lecture. I just said, “Hey, forget the score now. Go out there, swing smooth, try to enjoy one shot. Just one.” He nodded, didn’t say much.
The Crazy Back Nine Comeback
Then? Something clicked. Maybe it was the hot dog. Who knows? Suddenly he looked looser. Started actually swinging his club like he knew how to.
- Driver Started Finding Grass: Not long, but down the middle. Huge relief.
- Short Game Showed Up: He chipped one close from a gnarly lie behind the 11th green. Made the par putt. Then another! Started saving shots he had no right to save.
- Holed Some Bonkers Putts: Made a long one on 14 that went dead center. You could see his face change. Confidence is a wild thing.
Shot something like 38 on the back nine. Didn’t qualify – not even close to the scores needed – but he clawed his way back from the brink. Got handshakes from the other players and officials after. Kid was grinning ear to ear, exhausted but buzzing.
Biggest Thing He Learned? It wasn’t even about qualifying. It was seeing that after completely falling apart, you can pick yourself up and play halfway decent golf again. Just breathing helps. That sinking feeling on the front didn’t kill him. He learned what it actually feels like to be so nervous you can barely hold the club, and then how to fight through that. Stuff you can’t practice on the range.
For other kids wanting something big? Yeah, aim high, screw the doubters. But go in knowing you might crash and burn spectacularly. The magic isn’t in the qualifying score for some giant event when you’re ten. It’s showing up scared, getting cooked early, feeling miserable… and then hitting one pure shot after that hot dog that reminds you why you bothered to try in the first place. Seeing that flicker in my kid’s eyes when it happened? That’s the whole point. Forget “making it” – watch people try hard, mess up bad, and then find a little courage anyway. That’s way cooler.
I’m still buzzing about it weeks later. Crazy kid.
