After breaking his collar bone in a skiing accident at Christmas, my father (Big Roscoe) had a long lay off from playing golf which had been killing him, but yesterday he made his comeback, and hearing him talk about it made me proud to be his son.
My parents have always tried to teach my siblings and I that sport should be played for the enjoyment of being out competing with your friends, not for glory at any cost. When I started playing Aussie Rules at 8, my Dad taught me that before the first bounce of every game, I should look my opponent in the eye, shake his hand, and wish him luck. If I had heard someone else's Dad tell the story about his experience on the golf course the way my own father did, I would have been moved. But this was Roscoe, so if there's a level above just "moved," that's where I was.
My Dad played a good round of golf yesterday, he finished with 35 stableford points (which is good), but his enjoyment came not from the quality of his swing, but from the company he shared. Like a kid on Christmas morning, he said to me "I had SUCH a good day yesterday. I could have scored 25 points and I still would have loved it. Being out on the course with my mates was such a nice feeling. Scoring 35 points was just a bonus."
I feel like I've come out of Black Caviar's stud such is my pedigree.
My father is a champion.
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