What are we actually doing here?
I've been coaching junior golf for over 20 years.
It was inevitable that my firstborn daughter was going to be a golfer of some sort — not because I wanted to turn her into the next Lexi Thompson, but because she got to come to work with Dad. School holidays were just the best. I think she was happy being there — she never kicked up a fuss, and after all, that's where some of her mates were.
From the age of 7, she'd play in a couple of tournaments each month — one within my junior academy at Ferndown Forest, and the other on a 9-hole junior tour travelling around courses in Dorset, run by a very good friend of mine, Mike Dodd, who still runs it today.
I always try to remain modest, but she was a pretty good little golfer. Not much of her, but she's always had the ability to hit the ball a long way — which meant she performed well on shortened courses.
When she was 9, after qualifying through local and regional finals, we went to our first national final — the Wee Wonders — which took place in Scotland at the fantastic Longniddry Golf Club. Coming from Bournemouth, it was quite a journey, so we made a road trip of it, stopping at a couple of National Trust properties on the way up.
We got to the course for the practice round, hit a few balls, then headed out to play 9 holes. She played nicely.
The following day was the first round of the tournament. Tee time around 12:00, so we headed to the range at 10:30 after registering.
She was different. Shots all over the place, getting faster and faster — and the faster she got, the worse it got. I went into coaching-dad mode on the range. What I was saying wasn't going in, and although I stopped short of getting cross with her, I could have been a lot more tactful. It was uncharted territory for both of us.
Then Mum stepped in. Doing a child swap with our then 3-year-old, she pulled Immie into a hug that Immie didn't want to let go of. With Immie's head against her shoulder, she looked at me and mouthed the words: "Can't you see she's nervous?"
What an idiot I felt. Everything I was trying to do to help was making it worse. If it had been someone else's child, I'd have been giving them a pep talk — telling them how well they'd done just to get here, not loading them with last-minute swing thoughts.
With Mum to the rescue, Immie played brilliantly. Despite getting stuck in a bunker on the 3rd hole, she walked off the course as relaxed as if she'd just played a local event back in Dorset. She was happy.
The next day it was just Immie and I — my wife had jumped on the bus to take our youngest into Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival. I'd learned my lesson. Despite the same bunker making another appearance, Immie made some new friends and bounced off the course, and we headed into Edinburgh to join the others.
There are still plenty of errors I've made since then as a golf parent — but from that point on, I've always tried to make sure she leaves the course knowing that whatever happened is done, good or bad, and that we'll find a Starbucks for a Frappuccino on the way home.
Nearly a decade later, she's a 9-handicapper and still loves her golf. There are plenty of golfers her age doing amazing things — but it depends on what you define as success. I have a nearly 17-year-old daughter who still wants to come to work with Dad whenever there's a gap in the college diary. She still comes to the summer camps — ten years later — only now she's working with me. If I'd pushed her harder, she might be a scratch golfer. Or she might not be playing at all. It's so difficult to get right.
Things may still change — but for now, I'm loving wandering the fairways with her. And her now 10-year-old sister Lydia has just started coming along for lessons, so I'm chuffed.
I want to share what I've learned over the past 20 years as a coach and as a golf dad — but I'll be drafting in others to help me navigate this minefield.
This is The Long Game.
Until next time.
Deej