Reflections on the my father and the US Open

As many of you already know I do not watch much TV.  I did turn on the US Open yesterday while plowing through some piles of paperwork.  Not a big deal. Just something on in the background to prepare me for the inevitable “who is winning?”.  As we are all prone to do, I lost track of time thinking that Father’s Day is approaching. I began to reflect on the past year with/without my “Old Man”. Drifting into a catatonic state I was transported into a memory of my youth.  The 1990 US Open at Medinah.  Some of you may remember two iconic details about that Open.  The first and less memorable was that Curtis Strange had won the previous two Opens.  The second was Hale Irwin’s legendary lap around the 18th green following a 45 foot birdie putt.  Irwin had not won on the PGA Tour in 5 years and had won the Open 11 years earlier.  These are merely frame of reference points.

Again, to know me is to know that my parents worked in the service of others relying on compensation in the afterlife, not in this pass.  I would not understand what it meant to be without until I was much older as my parents consistently sacrificed to provide the best life for us.  I now understand the strain that a trip from Milwaukee to Chicago and the costs that are inherent in attending a major sporting event.  I would have been nearing 13 at the time, still two years from my first experience playing golf. My dad was really trying to move my interests away from football, basketball and any other game I could possibly squeeze into the daylight hours. He knew that my boundless energy, mischievous mind and fiery temper needed the social/ethical structure that golf provided long before anyone else would understand. So, I can only assume he used this need to talk my mom into allowing us to go.

I have beaten my brain with indulgence over the years, so the question of whether or not I went willingly is up for debate.  But it probably took some heavy conjouling. So we traveled from our home on the corner of North Avenue and 122nd St to Chicago and the home to one of the wealthiest clubs in America.  Few details about the property, golf, the weather, what we ate or drank are left.  The memories that do stand out are that I snuck away and Curtis Strange took me inside of the ropes to walk to the first tee (he did not win his 3rd in a row, so I might not be good luck), Brad Faxon randomly handing me a golf ball while telling me it was time for me to start playing. And my best memory: time with my dad teaching me about a game that he loved.  I will never forget the gleam in his eye as we followed Mr. Nicklaus, Palmer, The Shark, Couples.  I had no idea who they were, but I knew they had to be great if my dad was excited to follow them. Two entire days of he and I wandering, laughing, eating ice cream, getting lost and finding one another.

We haven’t always gotten along, we don’t agree on many topics.  In truth I would have been a tough one to parent from 16 on and not a good son/friend until my mid 30’s.  He is a man who spent my youth exhausting himself helping those who could not help themselves which was hard for a boy to understand.  He was prone to weight problems, being late, getting lost, fits of anger and an intense desire for “just five minutes alone!”.  I didn’t always get it, but I do now.  I love my dad and I miss being a few miles away.  I have terrible regret about how I viewed him for many years.  Our relationship today brings me much joy.  He is a great dad, a wonderful Grandpa and one of the best damn friends I could ever ask for.  Happy Father’s Day Rev. William Black.  Thank you for the trip to the 1990 US Open and the life that I have because you made me play golf.

 

Josh

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