There have been three times in my life that I have been lucky enough to enter “THE SPORTS ZONE.” Those of us that play sports on a regular basis are aware of that place. A cosmic area where you can do no wrong. Where the game comes easy. You see the ball the moment it leaves a pitcher’s hand. A grounder takes that bad hop and becomes a single. You play your sport believing you can do no wrong… that you are Tiger or Michael or Babe. We pray for these times, but they seldom choose our body for entrance.
My first zone came while playing high school basketball. I was a junior. I could always play; I could always shoot. You know those that can’t jump (white guys) were able to shoot. Back at the turn of the previous century when I played, there was no three point line. Anyway, beginning the second half of our season, we played Birmingham High. I went 7 for 7 from the outside and 8 for 8 from the free throw line. These kinds of stats continued for 8 more games and at the end I had made 45 of 48 shots and 36 straight free throws. The zone is an amazing place.
My second entrance into the zone came at the most mysterious time. I had just left my first wife (no, I will not tell you the story). Working in the Radio business in Los Angeles, a very big part of our lives was the Advertising Softball league. There were about 25 teams in the league. Extremely competitive. The goal each year was to win the league and receive and all-expense paid trip to San Francisco to play against other city ad league teams. The competition was always great. I was a decent high pitch player. Never a great hitter, I was a fantastic defensive left-center fielder. So the playoffs start and you had to win 8 straight games to win the Championship. I’m not sure if I was more relaxed having just become single or I just got lucky, but during those games a total sense of magic entered my body. Over the 8 games, I went 31 for 32; my only out was a ball heading over the fence stopped by an incredible grab by the outfielder. Hell, in two games they even intentionally walked me. We got to
San Francisco and the magical force continued. I have never in my life felt such power over my body and my opponents.
Last week, with my wife and kids in Los Angeles for some well-deserved vacation, we got a call that my mother-in-law’s nurse was outside her apartment banging on the door and that Nikki (Sandie’s mom) was not answering. I rushed over and had the apartment management team break through the door to find my wife’s mother and absolute best friend lying dead in her bed. There is nothing harder than telling your wife that her mom had passed. While Sandie and the boys were rushing back, I spent the day taking care of Nikki and cleaning out her apartment (something I knew Sandie would never be able to do.)
After not sleeping and holding my wife as she cried the night away, I convinced Sandie to get away for awhile and watch Will, Doug and me play golf. This is not something Sandie does very often. Actually never.
The zone works in mysterious ways. You never know when it will appear and just as important, you never know how long it will remain with you. Whether it was Niklki saying thanks; God making me look good to my wife; just being totally relaxed from being so tired… I proceeded to shot 33 on the front and ended the round at 2 under par.
Every shot was easy. I saw the lines; the cup was huge. The next day we did it again and I shot one under par. Sandie was like a girlfriend on a first date - all excited that her man was so impressive. It was fun to put a smile on her face.
On Tuesday of this week I was supposed to play in the Media Day at The Honors Club in Carrollton. Formerly the Columbian CC, Honors is without a doubt one of the best kept secrets in the metroplex. For almost 60 years this has been one of our best gems and no one knows.
I did not want to leave my wife, but she said go ahead. (Now, let me say this is not normal for Sandie to say go play.) At the end of the round we checked the scorecard and 71 looked great. Three straight rounds under par.
The ZONE is an amazing place. I hope and pray that each of you get to know how it feels. I know about making money… I know about being a great husband and dad, but as someone that loves playing sports… there is nothing like BEING IN THE ZONE.
I know it won’t last, but I am enjoying it while it is here.
A couple of thoughts on Drug Testing –
- Again I ask, “why?” Our sport is self-imposed. It is what makes golf the greatest of games. There are no umpires; there are no referees. There is one player playing a game and calling penalties on him/herself. With that being the case, why do we need testing? This was a bad move for golf.
- When jokes are reality! In the past two weeks, I have been asked about 100 times, “who will replace Tiger?” My answer continues to be the same, “no one.” Let me give you a perfect example of what I mean. Agree with me or not, most jokes come from reality and insecurity. Right?
The following was Top 10 player Steve Stricker’s response when asked about drug-testing: "All we have to test is one guy because we can't beat him, anyway."
Is there one player with kahones?
Have a great week… find the zone.
