Personal Narrative: My First Home Golf

The Grass is Al
My shoulders blazed from the beating sun and my palms were sweaty. I walked confidently toward the green as the other athletes were waiting on me. I was playing toward what looked like an amateur's ideal score, a 45. It was the first home golf match of the year, and I could not afford to score any higher than my goal. I had to make sure my mind didn’t mess up more shots than my body. The smell of my sweaty glove was filling the air around me. My tee shot off of hole number five soared in the sky like an eagle and rolled through the fairway. “Just don’t mess the next shot up,” I coached myself. I had doubts that I would not be able to accomplish the desired 45, as one shot can change your whole round. As I strolled down number five’s fairway, I could
I was terrified I would hook the ball to the out of bounds ground and spoil my 45. “Just keep your head down, stare at the ball, and rotate your shoulders completely back,” my teammate said. That indeed is what I did. I drudged up the fairway with the feeling of a wet towel on my shoulder. As I saw my yardage, I knew I needed to club down and let the ball roll up to the green. I chose a simple 9 iron from 118 yards to the middle of the green. My ball hit the front of the fringe, and had a slight roll inches from the green. I made my way toward the green with my teammate to decide my next stroke. “You’re sitting at a 42,” she said. I tried not to overcomplicate it, but I could not help from overthinking. I decided to putt from the fringe, leaving myself a ten or twelve foot putt for par. This was it. I looked at the hole from every angle, trying everything I could possibly attempt to get the ball to the hole in one stroke. I slowly moved my shoulders straight back and through to the hole, but missed the hole itself. I finished out the last putt and knew I accomplished a 45. All of the stress was released from my