For all of the great memories I have from playing golf in high school, there is a lingering moment of regret that I am reminded of each night before I fall asleep. On the wall of my bedroom is a framed display with a picture of me swinging a golf club, my scores from that year’s state finals tournament (73-80) and a list of the top ten finishers (I believe I finished tied for 5th with my co-captain, Casey Smits). The moment of regret comes not from the second day 80, although I wish I could have played better. Nor does it come from losing ground either as a team or as an individual on the second day of competition – sometimes you just don’t have your best game when you need it. I played my heart out both days and have no complaints about my play.<\/p>\n
What I regret is not speaking to my four teammates between the first and second rounds. There are specific points I would have made to each individual teammate – forget that your dad is following you; you’ll be the leader next year, so be one today; reign in your temper because every stroke counts; etc. I would have also spoken to the team as a whole and told them that I was proud of them, we’ve won before, and that I knew we could do it again. At least that is what I imagine I would have said – something positive and encouraging. I was, after all, the co-captain. <\/p>\n
I vividly remember both holding my tongue at the team meeting the night before the final round and wishing that, when the tournament was over, I had spoken to the team the night before when I had the chance to. I’ll never know whether my words would have done anything, but it would have made me feel better about the outcome.<\/p>\n
It’s been ten years since the fall of my senior year of high school, and there’s always a little bit of me that wishes I could go back, if just for a moment, to tell my younger self to say what I was thinking. Going forward, when I’m in a leadership position, I’ll never again make the mistake of being quiet when I should say something.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
For all of the great memories I have from playing golf in high school, there is a lingering moment of regret that I am reminded of each night before I fall asleep. On the wall of my bedroom is a framed display with a picture of me swinging a golf club, my scores from that […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[213,3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1430","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-golf","category-our-experiences"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/yugflog.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1430","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/yugflog.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/yugflog.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/yugflog.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/yugflog.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1430"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"http:\/\/yugflog.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1430\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1438,"href":"http:\/\/yugflog.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1430\/revisions\/1438"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/yugflog.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1430"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/yugflog.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1430"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/yugflog.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1430"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}