TERRY COULMN: Time with Dad, time well spent

The round started off good enough.

Using old clubs that have been sitting in the garage of our family’s home since before I left for college 10 years ago, I teed off against my dad at our local golf course in suburban Detroit last week. My first drive found fairway.

My dad and I golf every time I’m home, partly because it’s the best competitive fun time we can participate in together and partly as a way to escape and talk during my whirlwind trips back to Michigan.

Most of my nine days of vacation in the state were spent driving, either to meet family or friends in every corner of the Midwest. My dad still had to work, and with my visits, even the ones he attended, there wasn’t much time to actually catch up.

With so little time to spend together, the few hours it takes to shoot a round of golf are priceless. It’s just us talking, eating jerky and chasing a ball, each trying to out shoot the other.

We rolled into our local course at “too-early-for-Joe” a.m., to a soaking wet field by a rising river. The course, while in good shape, hadn’t drained well from the storms the night before and was playing sloppy.

I started off well. My drive landed about 50 yards farther than his, which signaled I was off to what was undoubtedly a round shooting 12-under-par and getting a plaque on the wall for two holes-in-one in a single round.

As I walked up to the green a few strokes later, I realized that not only was I on pace for that round, but that I’d also forgotten to place a putter in my bag.

My round fell apart from there. By the sixth hole, I was 8-over-par and he was even. I’d posted an 8 on one hole and was about to post another, this time on a par-3.

He finally bogeyed, maybe to prove he was human, maybe to show mercy.

I complimented him on taking lessons. He suggested that I could use a few.  

We only played nine holes, because that’s all we could fit in on a busy morning for both of us. I ended the round with a par, feeling confident on the way out. He won by 10 strokes, a score I still contend I could’ve made a dent in on the back nine.

More important than the score, however, was the time spent on the course. It was relaxing during a trip spent driving through traffic jams, torrential downpours and the Ohio turnpike. It was a great time spent with great company, even if the scorecard didn’t reflect how great a time I had.

A short nap later, I went out to a different course with my twin brother. The day warmed up and the courses in our area dried out, which took away at least two of my excuses.

Playing 18 holes and fading on the last few from being in terrible shape, I entered the final hole tied with my brother.

This time, my dad slipped a putter in my bag of misfit clubs.

It was all I needed to reclaim bragging rights over at least part of my family.

To make a long story short, happy Fathers Day. Don’t forget your putter.