AbstractMy dad is a lot of things. A great leader. An inspiring speaker. A fierce advocate for kids. But a good golfer? Not so much. My dad has a handicap of 20. For those who don't know, that means he's probably going to hit somewhere around 92 to 95 strokes on a good day. Breaking 90 is a rare, almost mythical event for him. For my friends and me, it's just another Saturday.Growing up in Suffolk, Virginia, I had the luxury of playing at some great courses. I was the captain of my high school golf team, and I was pretty good. I was also the captain of my soccer team and my eSports team. I learned that being a good leader meant you had to know the rules of the game. My dad, on the other hand, made his own rules on the course."Son," he would often say, "I'm not playing against the other guys; I'm playing against the course."I get the logic, but that doesn't explain why he keeps trying to hit a 3-wood from a hundred yards out of the rough. The man is a math whiz, but his on-course calculations are a tragedy. It's like he sees a straight line from tee to hole, ignoring all the trees, water hazards, and bunkers in between. I always tell him, "Dad, you have to play the course as it is, not as you want it to be."This is where the real fun begins. I'll give him a simple tip, something about club selection or a smoother swing, and he'll nod his head and then launch into a full-blown leadership lecture. He'll say something like, "Ivy (this is the nickname my parents gave me), that's what a good leader does. They don't just see the problem; they see the pathway to the solution. They don't try to force a shot they don't have; they play the ball where it lies and focus on the next shot."I've heard these lectures on the first tee, in the fairway, and in the sand trap. He says the golf course is a microcosm of leadership, where every shot is a decision, and every hole is a new challenge. He says you can't be a great leader without a healthy dose of humility, and you can't improve your golf game without acknowledging your weaknesses.I still don't understand why he doesn't just use an 8-iron from the fairway, but I've started to see his point. He's not just playing a game; he's working through a problem. Every bad shot is a chance to learn, and every good shot is a small victory.He's a terrible golfer, but he's a great leader. And maybe, just maybe, the two are more connected than I ever thought. What do you think?
