Mickey a la Cart

Lisa D. Mickey will offer an inside view of the Duramed FUTURES Tour and its players throughout the 2007 season. Visit "Mickey a la Cart" for an "extra" view of the Tour from her own "mobile office".

The Courage Behind the Scorecard

By Lisa D. Mickey

I see courage every day.

And sometimes when I think about the challenges in the young professional career of Michelle Wie, I wonder how her life could have been different if she had chosen the same path as so many of the players on the Duramed FUTURES Tour. Sure, the teenage golfing prodigy would have attracted a fair number of fans to this tour to watch her hit her massive drives and to hear the distinctly different sound her irons make at impact. Just as it has been everywhere she has gone, the crowds would have come, dazzled that such a young girl could make such an impact in the game so soon.

But what Wie missed on her way to fame and fortune was the one thing that every single member of this tour learns. Courage.

Courage to pack the trunk and leave home. Courage to drive from tournament to tournament in 14 states and to sleep in a different bed every week. Courage to learn a new language or a new culture. Courage to play on a shoestring budget, hoping to earn enough prize money to stay out on the road. Courage to tee it up against the other best young women professionals in the world and to believe that you can win. And courage to play the best you can – even on the really bad days – and to have the guts to post the score that measures what you did out there.

Courage is not just about having the physical skills to compete against the best players in the world. It’s not even about possessing fearlessness on the toughest courses. Courage is about having the ability to face yourself – in your own strengths and weaknesses -- and to take full responsibility for both. It’s about completing the round and signing the scorecard and knowing that even when it’s a day that reflects the worst of your efforts, the hopeful and determined belief of what lies ahead is even stronger than the day’s disappointment.

So many times, I have watched young pros drag themselves to the scoring table at the end of a poor round, heads down, spirits low, faces wearing the last few holes like a mask of despair. I have watched them log in their disappointing stats, walk out of the ropes, wipe tears from their eyes, pick up their own bag and disappear into the parking lot – sometimes knowing their score that day wouldn’t bring them back tomorrow or that they had already been forced to start thinking about next week.

But as these young players deal with disappointments in their own way, I find myself admiring their tenacity. I see them build character and strength through adversity. Sometimes it takes several seasons, but I watch them learn to take responsibility for building their own unshakable foundations that will sustain them in the future. They learn more through failure and disappointment than if all of their efforts had been easy, predictable and comfortable.

And they most often learn to do this with their backs against the wall. There usually are not millions of dollars in their bank accounts, nor are there endorsements that make the task of their labor easier. Many times, they are completely alone. There are no agents, managers, physical trainers or mental coaches. Most of the time, when those forgettable rounds are over, these players are left only with a sweat-stained scorecard and a deep twitch in the gut that tells them they have more work to do.

In a recent round, I watched one young rookie player who had shot a high number move to the scoring tent as if she were in line for a dose of foul-tasting medicine. She held her head in her hands at the scoring table as she did her math. I could see the disappointment in her face. She left the scoring tent with tears in her eyes, not saying a word. As this happened, another young player on the adjacent practice green watched her friend. She gave the player time to feel the things she had to feel, and then she ran across the lawn and draped an arm over her friend’s shoulders to comfort her. My guess is that she told her friend she was not alone.

During the same round, I watched another player literally shaking with anger as she described the action of a rookie pro in her pairing who had taken a page from Wie’s recent two tournament showings. Just as Wie had suddenly withdrawn from the LPGA’s Ginn Tribute tournament in South Carolina, and again at the U.S. Women’s Open -- allegedly because of injury but presumably for fear of shooting a score that would end her 2007 LPGA opportunities – this young player on the Duramed FUTURES Tour also withdrew before the completion of her round. She simply walked off the course and was last seen headed to the nearest Starbucks. “I can’t understand how someone can do that,” said the angry and shaking player. “Not in this game. Not because of a golf score.”

Indeed.

And when I think of Wie’s words to the media at this year’s U.S. Women’s Open when she said, “It’s frustrating because my score is not displaying how I’m playing at all,” or when she said, “I know I’m a better player than this and the score’s not showing it,” I find myself wishing she could truly understand the measure of the scorecard.

That piece of paper is not only the addition of the day’s hole-by-hole round, but it is the tally of courage for all that goes into playing the game. The numbers are simply the representation of the player’s courage to try. And in time, those digits can become the measure of moving from failure to triumph, from worries to confidence, and even from empty pockets to a newfound comfort available only to those who were willing to take risks in the first place.

When I think of courage on this tour, I think of the financially challenged player who collected lost golf balls on the municipal course where she grew up and how she emerged from a First Tee program to earn a college golf scholarship and later turn professional. I think of the former small-college golfer who, in her 20s, dealt with the shock and grief of burying her soldier husband. I think of the Thai player who quit competitive golf for a year to immerse herself in studies just to learn English well enough to pass a test that would allow her to attend to the American university that offered her a golf scholarship. I think of the former LPGA Rookie-of-the-Year player who came back to the “minor league” to refind her game and to rediscover her love of golf.

And when I think of courage out here, I remember the determined looks on the faces of the only player from Russia and the only player from the Czech Republic at this year’s U.S. Women’s Open – both, members of the Duramed FUTURES Tour. Each player was en route to missing the cut at the biggest tournament in women’s golf, but both had the courage to qualify, to play, to complete 36 holes and to be the first and only women from their respective countries to ever get this far. Regardless of what they shot, neither would dream of walking off the course or dismissing the opportunity to test themselves against the world’s best players. Each cherished her unique position to show others back home that the game of golf offers a new world of possibility. And for both, their respective scores were not as important as their mere presence in the game. Courage brought them here, took them to the Open and introduced them to the world.

Perhaps it sounds provincial to those outside this tour, but it’s a shame that Michelle Wie never played on the Duramed FUTURES Tour. Maybe if she had, she could have looked around and learned from the many true faces of courage out here. And maybe even in her own moments of need, she would have been chased down by a friend with a few kind words, telling her to keep trying because the real reward is what lies in the heart of those who believe in their own efforts.

I see courage every day. And I wish a terrific young talent like Michelle Wie could, too.