The boy and his driver

Many years ago there was a boy who decided he wanted to learn how to play golf. He had watched others play and loved the way they could make that little white ball soar beyond the eyes' view. That is what he wanted to do and so began the friendship between himself and the driver.

Every day he went to the driving range with just his driver. For hours he pounded the white ball trying to make it go as far as he could. The ball went to the left, right, and sometimes it never even left the tee. He told his parents he needed lessons. The first instructor taught the boy basics of the game but he wasn’t really paying attention until time was spent learning how to tee off. That was the only thing he wanted to do and soon he learned the correct way to tee off. He was satisfied, stopped taking lessons, and spent the next year driving the ball further and further.

Occasionally the young golfer would play the course but the high scores led him to believe he needed more practice on the driving range. He had to work harder to reach a point where he could hit the ball far enough to take him to the green and so for another year it was the boy and his driver pounding away on the range.

His swing was beautiful and people were impressed with his skills driving the ball on the range. The boy was persistent and reached his goal of making the white ball soar up into the sky and further than anyone else he had seen practicing on the range.

Now he wanted more. He wanted to play golf and get the lowest score possible. The boy played round after round and upon reaching the last hole he was defeated. “What was wrong?” he would ask himself. “I’m getting the ball close to the green and sometimes on the green.”

Finally his driver could no longer keep quiet. “Listen up, I’m tired and I quit. You have been beating me up for years slamming me against the golf ball for too long. Enough is enough. Use your other clubs; you know the ones with dust on them.”

“You can’t quit on me now,” the boy pleaded.

“Oh yes I can.”

For weeks every time the boy teed off the driver would take his ball out of bounds, into sand traps, the water, or into the middle of a group of trees. The boy was disgusted because it was costing him dearly. It sometimes took him four or five tries to hit the ball out of a sand trap. His putting had been bad enough and really the only thing that had stood in his way of a decent golf game. He had figured sooner or later and with all the putting it took to make it in the hole he would improve eventually.

The young golfer went home one day and told his parents he had outgrown his driver; he needed a new one. His driver wasn’t working for him any longer. He got a new driver and this one even had a loud ping when it hit the ball. It was awesome and back to the driving range he went. Days turned into months driving the ball to even further distances!

The boy was back in the game and took it on the course. The precision of his tee shots was right on and although his putting was awful he was satisfied. His putting needed work but that would have to wait because the boy felt he could still improve with driving the ball.

The day came and again he heard from his driver, “I quit, and your putter is getting worn out too.”

The boy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew what was about to take place. His driver rebelled and drove his ball to places the boy had never been before like into other fairways. And again the boy told his parents he needed a new driver. This time he was refused and told he would have to make do with the clubs he had, after all most of them didn’t have a scratch on them.

For a year or so his driver was on strike and the boy was forced to pull out his wedge time after time along with his irons. He had to learn how to get the ball out of tall grass, gravel, sand, ditches, and puddles of water or mud. The boy was disgusted and discouraged the game had become so complicated. No amount of pleading with his driver to help him out did any good. His driver refused to do all the work.

The young golfer went home one day after playing a disastrous game and told his mother he was quitting. Without good tee shots his game was over and a new driver would make all the difference in the world. Again he was denied and told to keep trying. Golf was in his blood and it would be a shame to quit now. The boy was told that the day would come when his game would come together if he kept trying. His mother convinced him to take lessons again but that again turned into a battle of the wills. The boy was more focused on driving the ball further than ever before. What he didn’t realize at the time was that it was the little things he was being taught that would make the difference; the short game.

Many years were spent arguing with his driver and its refusal to cooperate. The boy was forced to make up the shots with his irons and putter. Time and again he talked of quitting the game all together. Each game he played left him discouraged and unaware of what was really taking place. The boy was leaning how to overcome obstacles. He was slowly realizing the short game held the key. Little by little the boy was beginning to improve and stopped relying on his driver knowing it wouldn’t help him out anyway. The day came when the boy looked forward to landing in the sand trap because it gave him an opportunity to practice getting it out and landing as close to the hole as possible. Although he remained discouraged about his overall game he refused to quit something he had grown to love. Golf had become a part of him.

He was continuously reminded to not give up and that someday if he worked hard his game would come together.

And it did. With his new abilities on the short game he was forced to learn, everything began to make sense. The many mistakes weren’t mistakes at all; they were lessons in disguise.

He again approached his driver and promised to not abuse it.

The driver excitedly said, “Let’s grip it and rip it.”

You've got to say, I think that if I keep working at this and want it badly enough I can have it. It's called perseverance.
-- Lee Iacocca