The Beginning
In 1993, the Minnesota North Stars relocated their NHL franchise to Dallas, and became the Dallas Stars. At the time, I was one year old and living in San Diego, CA. East County to be exact. God’s Country. Beef N Bun, BBQ Pit, and Grossmont High. What’s not to like?
Fast forward to July 1995, and the Grahl tribe has relocated to Plano, TX. I am not sure why we ever left God’s Country, but nonetheless, Texas it was.
The first summer in Dallas was a tough transition for the us. After living in San Diego, CA all their lives, I am not sure my parents knew how to handle the heat.
Not knowing any better, my parents got our sporting careers started with the traditional outdoor sports. Baseball, soccer, and football. Being three years old, I only partook in baseball and soccer. Unfortunately, for my brother Kory, he partook in all three.
Imagine for a second, standing on a tee ball field in Plano, TX, in the middle of July. Does that sound fun?
Of course not.
I don’t care how good I looked in that Plano White Sox uniform, the Grahl boys stopped participating in tee ball after just a couple of summers.
Which leads us to the summer of 1996. Building off the buzz of the new pro hockey team, ice rinks started popping up all over Dallas. One of those rinks was Ice Bound, in Plano, Texas. In an attempt to get out of the Texas heat, my dad took Kory and I over to the ice rink to enroll us in skating lessons and youth hockey. At the time, Ice Bound was not able to fully occupy the building, so parents would have to dress their kids in the parking lot and hand them off to the skating instructors at the door.
Full gear, in the middle of the parking lot, in the Texas heat. YIKES.
First Love
The rest is history. The first sport I fell in love with, was ice hockey. In 1996, I became a huge Dallas Stars fan. My childhood hero was Mike Modano. As far back as I can remember I wanted to become a pro hockey player just “Like Mike.” I had a painting of Mike Modano scoring a goal against the Buffalo Sabres painted on my bedroom wall as a kid.
I played ice hockey from the time I turned three all the way until my freshman year in high school. During our time in the hockey world, the Grahl Family gained many lifelong family friends.
Transitioning to Golf
So how does that all tie into golf?
Most of the guys that I play golf with are friends that I had made while I was growing up playing hockey.
What’s it like playing golf with a bunch of hockey players?
LIKE A FART IN CHURCH. IT’S NOT GOOD.
Golf and hockey are two very different games. Golf is a gentlemen’s game; a patient game. Success in golf requires a clear head and a lot of patience. Hockey is a game of skill, toughness, and bravado. If you have ever watched a best of seven playoff hockey series, you know what I’m talking about. A lot times, the team that comes out on top, is the team that did a better job of wearing down their opponent. The DNA of a hockey player is just flat different from the DNA of a golfer.
Therefore, transitioning to golf can be tough for hockey players. The waiting around destroys them. Their attention span drifts and they are forced to find ways to fill the time spent waiting.
Rounds of golf with hockey players include a lot of chirping (shit talk), a lot of pine cone fights, and a few slammed or thrown golf clubs.
As an example, the following stories are two of my worst moments ever on the golf course.
Carmel Highland Golf Resort
Standing on the 18th tee at Carmel Highland Golf Club, I snap hook my drive into what I think is going to be a horrible spot. I throw my driver down to the ground in disgust. My driver proceeds to bounce, and hit one of my playing partners in the shin. RUT ROH. Dead silence.
Have you ever gotten the silent treatment from your parents? Ya, not a good feeling.
I was in deep shit.
Everyone tees off and I decide I am going to walk to find my ball to try to deescalate the situation. Turns out, walking was my only option. Both carts sped off without me before I could get in.
A couple minutes later, I find my ball sitting on a tee in the middle of the fairway. Apparently, my ball had bounced off a steep bank and kicked back into the fairway.
I have never felt like more of an asshole in my entire life.
In a different round a few weeks later, I walked off the course after only playing 14 holes. After finishing the 14th hole, I put my putter back into my golf bag and headed straight for the parking lot. While the rest of the boys finished their rounds I sat in the parking lot fuming at my brother. I had taken one too many pine cones to the ribs in the middle of my back swing that day and I decided I was done.
Sure enough, the boys finish their round and pull into the parking lot asking me what happened as if they all didn’t know why I was pissed off. The classic hockey fight maneuver. Instigate and then deny any involvement!
Figure it Out Bud!
The first few years that I played golf, involved a ton of frustration. All of the sports I played growing up required a different set of intangible skills. While I was able to improve my physical skills in golf pretty quickly, it took me a long time to master the soft skills of the game. I had to learn to be patient and I had to learn how to manage my frustration.
Improvement in golf doesn’t happen quickly. You will see signs that your skills are improving, long before strokes start coming off of your total score. Learning to accept that part of the game took me awhile.
In other sports, you can play well while being frustrated. Hell, I would even argue that in some other sports, it helps to play with a little red ass. But in golf, frustration will destroy any chance you have at being successful.
Some days are going to be magic, and some days going to be tragic. If you can learn to manage the frustration, the game becomes a lot easier, and a lot more fun.
So, if you are going to go play a round of golf with a hockey player, expect a few outbursts that probably warrant a five minute major, and a game misconduct.
Speaking of which, are there penalty boxes on a golf course? Maybe there should be.
Until next time,
Enjoy the chase!