Christmas Wisdom (3 of 4)
Christmas Series
Steve Jones
Matthew 2:1-12
INTRODUCTION:
Excerpt from "The Pro" by Butch Harmon
If my brothers and I ever hit a shot without a specific target in mind, Dad would never let us hear the end of it. When Billy played in the Palm Springs invitation as a junior, Dad followed him, as he did when any of us were playing. The first hole was a straightforward par four with a road out of bounds on the right. Billy hit a good drive. But on his second shot, he let the out-of-bounds stake to his right creep into his mind. Of course he pulled the ball into the left greenside bunker. On his third shot, a simple bunker shot, he looked up during his waggle, and all he could see were the white "OB" stakes, the road, "Our Lady of Solitude" Catholic Church on the other side of the street, and Dad, arms folded across his chest, standing directly on his sight line 20 yards away. Billy had no chance. Instead of blasting the ball onto the green, he caught it cleanly, and it soared out of bounds directly toward the church. Billy hung his head knowing that he was about to make a seven on a simple par four. Then he heard a voice. It was Dad shouting "Light a couple of candles for me while you're over there." Had Billy been a little older he might have given Dad the finger. That night he said "Dad I didn't appreciate the comment you made on number one today. It was disrespectful during what I consider a very big tournament." Dad said "Don't blame me. You hit the ball exactly where you were looking. I knew you were heading to the church before you pulled the trigger. So I figured you could light a couple of candles and maybe say a few 'Our Fathers' for me while you were there." Billy gritted his teeth and didn't say anything. He knew Dad was right. "You had 10,000 square feet of sand in that bunker" Dad said "And you hit the ball, the only thing you couldn't do, because all you could see were those big white out of bound ...
Christmas Series
Steve Jones
Matthew 2:1-12
INTRODUCTION:
Excerpt from "The Pro" by Butch Harmon
If my brothers and I ever hit a shot without a specific target in mind, Dad would never let us hear the end of it. When Billy played in the Palm Springs invitation as a junior, Dad followed him, as he did when any of us were playing. The first hole was a straightforward par four with a road out of bounds on the right. Billy hit a good drive. But on his second shot, he let the out-of-bounds stake to his right creep into his mind. Of course he pulled the ball into the left greenside bunker. On his third shot, a simple bunker shot, he looked up during his waggle, and all he could see were the white "OB" stakes, the road, "Our Lady of Solitude" Catholic Church on the other side of the street, and Dad, arms folded across his chest, standing directly on his sight line 20 yards away. Billy had no chance. Instead of blasting the ball onto the green, he caught it cleanly, and it soared out of bounds directly toward the church. Billy hung his head knowing that he was about to make a seven on a simple par four. Then he heard a voice. It was Dad shouting "Light a couple of candles for me while you're over there." Had Billy been a little older he might have given Dad the finger. That night he said "Dad I didn't appreciate the comment you made on number one today. It was disrespectful during what I consider a very big tournament." Dad said "Don't blame me. You hit the ball exactly where you were looking. I knew you were heading to the church before you pulled the trigger. So I figured you could light a couple of candles and maybe say a few 'Our Fathers' for me while you were there." Billy gritted his teeth and didn't say anything. He knew Dad was right. "You had 10,000 square feet of sand in that bunker" Dad said "And you hit the ball, the only thing you couldn't do, because all you could see were those big white out of bound ...
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