Fear Strikes Out...At Pebble Beach?

So, when I was a little kid playing all the sports, I was cool. If we needed a hit, a cleanly fielded grounder, or a clutch free throw, no problem. I loved my cool skinny little self. I was never nervous. I was money.

And I think I started choking about a month before my long-awaited trip to Pebble Beach. While golf did manage to save me from throwing up after track practice every 10th grade spring afternoon; it did get me to thinking while moving. And therein lies the problem.

For me, thinking best works just fine in a classroom, when I’m providing care for patients, or occasionally just before I hit “send.” Period.

And I don’t know about you, but I’ve never stood and delivered and received a vote of confidence from the little guy residing in the back of my head. In fact, that little punk wouldn’t know reassurance or inspiration if he stepped in it. And I’ve never seen him, but I always visualize a sneer and an eye roll.

My co-workers and root canal specialist/bon vivant/buddy funded part of my dream trip to Pebble. And I love my team like nobody else but sometimes wonder why they’re so committed to getting me straight outa the office? My root canal colleague once treated me to my worst ever round of golf at beautiful Pelican Hill resort in Newport Beach…and my hypnotherapist has been on speed dial ever since. I have issues.

The little voice guy refers to Pelican Hill even when I’m shaving or drinking coffee; and he’s been working overtime for the last month. Each time I pull the clubs out of the trunk, I hear Little Guy whispering, “Pelican Hill, Pelican Hill, Pelican Hill…”

So last Friday morning, I promptly arrived at historic Pebble Beach’s first tee. I noticed I was surrounded by about a hundred golfers, all decked out and equipped for the PGA Tour.

The smiling starter and caddy Richard (An awesome three-day guide, historian, and friend) looked at me, my only set of real golf shorts, and a slightly mixed collection of golf clubs; and suddenly, Little Guy had joined the foursome.

I countered with a silent mantra (I use right out loud when my beloved USC Trojans suck) and added Dental Assistant Kolleen’s golf pro brother’s advice. I moved my lips to silently voice Kevin’s fail safe coaching, “Slow and short. Slow and short…” The little voice shared, “He’s just describing you as an athlete!”

Got off the first tee with about a 60% result, wound up behind a tree; got semi-creative…and just like that I wasn’t in Iowa, I was in Golf Heaven. I played well, had fun, met some awesome people, and even birdied the tough 14th hole (where you line up your tee shot with Charlie Schwab’s chimneys.)

The day was a freakin' miracle, up to and including a post-round crab salad, a 20-ounce Lagunitas…and the iconic view of the 18th green and the bay, the beauty of which, dreams will never capture.

And once again I was rewarded by way more than usual and customary good fortune. I was also reminded just how much I appreciate the chance to spend weekdays at the office with people I love. In so many ways, my team has inspired me to overcome fear by holding me to my word; doing what I know I should do when I said I was going to do it, no debate. And it’s still a process but isn’t supporting one another what being family is all about?