better living | golf

Never to young to
take a swing at golf

By JEFF KEATING

I DECIDED to give my daughter her first golf lesson a little while back.

Nothing too complicated, mind you — gripping the club firmly, keeping her head down, swinging all the way through the ball.

And bending her knees. And reaching for the ball just a little while in her stance. And not letting her hips fly open. And keeping her elbow in. And finding the target window in the sky.

You know, just the basics. Didn’t want to clutter her mind with too much.

A couple of factors were working against me, though:

1) I don’t do any of the things I just mentioned especially well myself.

2) My daughter’s 2, which means ...

well, let’s just say she’s very 2.

Nevertheless, I soldiered on, despite plenty of signs that she just wasn’t all that interested in anything other than swinging her little plastic club with the oversized head at anything and everything other than the big, white, dimpled plastic ball before her.

(You can buy these little golf sets at Toys ‘R’ Us for about $6. They come with two “woods,” a putter, a couple of balls, and circular orange targets — “cups” — to hit the balls into. The cups even have little green flagsticks. I highly recommend equipping your toddler children — or your private office, if you have one — with this gear. It’s fun for all ages!)

My first mistake, as it turns out, probably was trying to give this lesson at an actual golf range. After hitting a bucket of balls, I was flush with activity Never too young to take a swing and anxious to show Halley a thing or two about the game, as she’d sat in rapt attention watching while I sprayed balls all over the greenery.

But she clearly wasn’t comfortable in this strange environment, trying to punch her ball off a weird green carpet and onto someone else’s lawn, all while her father repeatedly told her to keep her head down. She kept picking up the ball and looking for another place to put it — my golf bag, her mom’s lap, her pocket, anywhere but on the ground or into the air.

In fact, the whole idea of using the club to put distance between herself and her precious ball seemed horribly counterproductive to my definitely- not-Tiger 2-year-old. After all, this was her ball, right? Why go to such effort to make it fly away? So in a fit of pique, as I was futilely trying to get her to swing again, she announced “No!” quite loudly, picked up her club and ball, and walked over to stand by her mother, who was sitting on a bench. Laughing, which was not the slightest bit helpful.

But later on, looking back at our little lesson, I realized Halley really had learned a thing or two. She’d learned to hold the club, and despite her misgivings, that the object of the game was to hit the little white ball into the air in front of her. For what purpose, she could learn later. She’d also learned that engaging in a physical activity outdoors is always an option.

All in all, a good lesson, I thought as I cleaned up her bedroom that night.

That’s when I found her big golf club, its head dangling from the shaft by a tiny tendril of plastic. Between her golf lesson and bedtime, she’d managed to tear the club near in two.

I’d left out that part of the lesson, but on the upside, it looks like she’s mentally ready to hit the links!