Heroes

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes.  Some of them are people we know personally; others are people we cherish from afar, maybe even from another time.  My parents are two of my heroes for everything they have done for my sister and me and for their community.  James Taylor is a hero for creating a style that is instantly recognizable and for making you feel you're listening to him in his living room when in fact you are one of thousands of people in the room with him as he plays and sings in concert.

I have a new hero as of Friday.  His name is Masoud Nemati, and I was lucky to play a round of golf with him at Ballybunion Golf Club in Ireland.  It is said that you can learn a lot about a person by playing golf with him.  If you are really lucky and you're paying attention, you can learn something about yourself as well.

I wasn't planning to play Ballybunion on this trip, because they do not allow riding carts, and since I had both of my hips replaced in 2001, I have only played golf with a riding cart.  Hip replacement surgery is a wonderful thing because after you've recovered from the rather traumatic surgery, you have mobility you've either never had or have not had in many years.  Walking five or six miles across 18 holes of golf is a bit outside of what you expect to be able to do, even though no doctor had ever told me that I should not walk that far.  In fact, I walk one and a half miles three or four mornings a week to stay in shape and clear my mind.

When one of our tour members canceled out of the round at Ballybunion, I knew in my heart that I wanted to give it a go, even though I'd have to walk the course.  I'd played in in 1987 with best friend Dan Wright and wanted to try it again.  I decided that I'd simply walk as far as I could and then head back to the clubhouse, whether I'd finished 18 holes or not.

Ballybunion is a wild, ancient golf course built into a series of dunes beside the Atlantic Ocean in County Kerry.  Five or six of the holes run directly alongside the ocean.  (In a cruel twist of fate, the ocean is always on your right as you step up to the tee on these holes.  So if you hit the ball to the right more often than not, which is the case with me and many other golfing friends, a sliced ball is going to wind up on the beach down below or even in the water.)  Many of the fairways take you through valleys formed by the ancient hills above, so if you do not hit your first or second shot straight, you have to climb up the hill to look for your ball in the gorse.  And if you are so lucky as to find it, you have to stand at a strange angle to hit it back down onto some short grass and try to get home with a reasonable score.  In other words, it's not really a place for a below-average golfer with two artificial hips.

I had gotten to know Masoud a little bit before we began our round that day.  I knew he'd grown up in Iran and had left in the 1970's because his family was aligned with the Shah before the revolution.  I also knew that he was fighting cancer and had completed his most recent round of chemotherapy less than two weeks before beginning the trip to Ireland.  I could tell from the fact that he came on the trip that he was going to live his life to the fullest and not sit around feeling sorry for himself.  So I didn't think twice about the fact that he was going to play Ballybunion with his friends Michael, Marc and Sam.

Masoud and I were in a threesome with Doug Morgan (www.twowheeling.com).  Doug is another one of my heroes, because you always know what Doug stands for.  He is the kind of friend you'd want to have along in any situation.  Read his blog and you will see what I mean.  Suffice it to say that Doug spent a lot of time going up and down the hills looking for my lost balls and reminding me as I was addressing the ball on the tee to keep my swing smooth.  Doug is in better shape than anyone I know because he rides his bike to and from work almost every day.  So he was prepared for the task of helping me, and he was more than willing to help.

I could tell that Masoud was starting to struggle about the fifteenth hole.  He'd told me a little more about his cancer treatment during our round, and about some of the surgery he'd had to prevent the cancer from spreading.  I had started to struggle someplace around the twelfth hole and thought about being sensible and giving up.  But Masoud inspired me by his words and by his actions.  If a man facing down death could finish this challenging march through the hills and dunes, I was going to walk with him.  Several times offered to pull his cart up a hill, and each time he refused.  He showed me how to live this experience to its fullest.

When the round was over, I stood on the hill leading up to the 18th green, took off my Yale Golf Course hat, placed it over my heart and thanked God for giving me this day.  I vowed to start walking my own golf course back home in Ohio and not let my life be limited by some imaginary constraints or excuses.  That's what happens when you get inspired by a hero.

Comments

[Ghazal Vafabakhsh]

Hello, I do not know who you are, but the man you are speaking of, Masoud, he is my dear and sweet uncle. I randomly came across your blog when I googled my uncle's name. To read what you wrote about him brought many, many tears to my eyes. I do not know if you are aware, but my uncle lost his battle with cancer on 02.07.2010. I was grateful to be by his side and he left just as graciously as he LIVED his life. We might be strangers in this large world ... but we most definitely share a HERO and God only knows how much I miss him every second of every day.