I coach High School Golf and decided to play 9 at my local course in New Britain (Stanley) on my way home from practice. My players are very talented but my own game has been absolutely atrocious this year. I need practice more than they do.

I texted my buddy to see if he could play twilight at the last minute and he immediately abandoned his loving family to come play during dinner time.

We get to the second hole (11 red) and it seemed like any other hole. We were just happy to be there. Out of nowhere, a perfect 6 iron strike sends the #24 (shout out Ken Griffey Jr.) Pro V1 sailing toward the hole dead into the wind with a single bounce and a roll dripping into the front of the cup.

We were silent, turned toward each other wondering if that actually just happened. I sprint to the cup at a pace threatening to tear each of my 37 year old un-stretched ACL’s. My grandfather’s old push cart wheels squeeking as if the old man was sending Morse Code from heaven above (--. . . / .-- .... .. --.. --). I swear I heard it. An adrenaline rush I will chase until the end of my days.

I pick the ball up and am reminded why we cannot ever stop playing this game, no matter how bad the slump. A perfect moment shared with an old friend. A beautiful game.

Sincerely, A thankful customer:

John Matteis