Matt Ferriero

Audio Narrative
A Day on the Links
The marshal in my group welcomed me to the tee, initiating that it was my turn to tee off on
the first hole. Normally, I would be calm and would only have one thought running through my
mind when I stepped up to the tee, right center of the fairway. However, today, my blood
pumped, my hands shook, my face began to heat up. My cheeks filled with blood, turning
slightly red as my anxiousness overcame me. A few deep breaths and I started to feel more
relaxed. I entered my own world, no one else was around, only a few birds chirped in the
distance. Bang! Reality crashed right through the little bubble that I had created. It wasnt just
any tee shot. It was the first tee shot, on the first hole, of the state championship. I placed the tee
in the ground and backed away from the ball to go through my pre-shot routine. I did this before
every shot, no matter what the circumstance. As I finished my routine, I achieved my goal. I had
entered into my bubble again. Chirp, chirp. The birds were back.
As soon as I hit the ball, I knew that it had all gone wrong. The ball soared left, left, left. I
mean, that sucker wasnt going to stop! Well, now it was time to walk and go find wherever the
ball had ended up. The other three players in my group had all hit the fairway. Great, behind
from the start. Not what I needed being one of the youngest players in the tournament. They all
walked together up the middle of the fairway. Yeah, same. This is my third year playing in the
state championship, one of them proclaimed. Awesome, now I am not only the youngest player

in my group but the most inexperienced. As I veered off to the left in order to find my ball, I
couldnt help but think, well, maybe next year.
Uhh, I think its in there the marshal muttered. Great, this cant be good. My ball had
found its way into a tangle of barbed wire. Or as some people may call it, a pricker bush. Time to
give it a smack. I swung as I hard as I could at the ball, simply trying to get it back into the
general atmosphere of the hole. The ball limped its way out into the rough. The ball must have
been scared of being hit because it dug itself as deep as it could into the rough. Again, I swung as
hard as I could. Whoosh! The club swung through the rough, but the ball didnt move. Disbelief.
That is all I could feel. How is that even possible? Again, I swung as I hard I could, now
strangling the grip of my club. The ball actually flew in the air! Progress! The rest of the hole
was a whirlwind of disaster. As I picked up the ball out of the hole, I realized what I had just
done. A quadruple bogey on the first hole. A disaster. The next two holes followed this pattern of
misfortune. Only negative thoughts filled my head after these holes. What am I doing? What is
my team going to think? How bad is this score going to be today? Not one positive thought
circled around inside my mind.
As I walked to the fourth tee box, now eight over par in three holes, I wanted to just turn
in my scorecard and go home. Maybe watch a funny movie and pretend that none of this ever
happened. Hey, come on, bro. You are better than this. Lots of golf still to play, so get it
together. an experienced senior in my group exclaimed. This was a needed slap in the face.
Negative thoughts were only going to make things worse. I had a team to play for. The least I
could do would be to post a half decent score and give my team a chance. There were fifteen
holes left to play. Time to get this train back on the tracks. On the fourth tee box, I gave up trying

to play my best. I gave up thinking about my swing. I gave up on everything except my pre-shot
routine. This routine. The way into my bubble, where I was all alone, just playing the game that I
loved. Chirp, chirp. There it was, the birds were back. I could hit any shot, make any putt, deal
with any challenge put in front of me inside this bubble.
I picked up the ball out of the eighteenth hole and the bubble popped. Back to reality. The
last fifteen holes blended together and I had no idea what my final score was or how my
competitors had done. Hell of a comeback young man, the marshal in my group shook my
hand and congratulated me. I had shot six under par in the last fifteen holes to finish at two over
par. The senior, who had given me that slap in the face, shook my hand saying, I knew you had
it in you!. He was right. I did have it in me. I was better than how was playing, and there was
still time to get it back. As I walked towards my teammates and coach, they ran up to me and
slapped me on the back, You finished third! Somehow, someway, I had come back from the
worst three holes in my life to finish third in the state championship. I had proved to myself that I
could always recover. That I could always come back from a mistake with the right mental
attitude.