Personal Narrative: My First Golf Tournament

"Yes!" Today was the day of my first golf tournament. I was tingling with emotion and excitement. Personally, I didn't know what to expect. I knew this day was coming, hopefully one of many tournament days.

On the first tee, I was as nervous as an athlete competing in the olympics. I met my two playing partners, Jacob and Connor. Jacob was a towering fellow. Connor was a short, stringbean like me. Unexpectedly, my drive was smooth and rolled down the fairway as if I hit it on a tarmac. Jacob and Connor both hit their drives right down the pipe as well. As our group, made our ascent to the green, we all drew our putters like pirates would for a sword fight.

"Jacob would you like me to mark my ball?" "That would be awesome" Jacob responded.
By the fifth hole, anger continued to steadily flow throughout my body, not giving a hoot about my round at this point, only caring about the event htat had previously took place. My father quietly pulled me aside, and pronounced, "How do you think your playing right now?" "Who care's, the tournaments over." "That's just not true, Anthony." "I brought you out here today so you could have fun and experience your first competition, I don't care if you end up with one-thousand strokes. All I care about is if you have fun and leave all of your effort on the golf course." "I see." "Okay, now come on, let's play some golf and have fun." After making my first par on hole six. I continued to stay level headed even if I did end up making a triple bogey on seven."

Once arriving to hole eight, I decided that it was best to forgive Connnor and start talking to him again. There was no point in shunning him. After all, I learned quite a valuable lesson. I was glad that I had found this rule out now, instead of when it really matters. After knowing I wasn't going to win with only two holes left of a nine hole competition, I did exactly what I should have been doing the entire round, have
My second shot into the lengthy par four came into contact witth a cart sign. Which left the ball about twenty yards short of where it should have been. Instead of complaining about it like I and most nine year olds would have done, My father and I decided to laugh it off. After a crisp ptich shot that went right on to the green and rolled just twelve feet past the pin, I used all of my strength left in me to read the putt. Once I struck the ball, it made a hopping motion towards the cup. "Get in, Get in!" I chanted. The ball ended up three feet past the pin. After I tapped in for bogey, I proceeded to shake my the players and caddies hands after the round, saying something like, great job or that was