A Golf Lesson- Personal Narrative
I guess it started when I was about twelve years old. My father took me to this place called a golf course. I did not know why or what we were here for, but I was interested in finding out. We entered a building called a clubhouse; then, he paid for a bucket of practice balls. I followed him to the driving range. Once we got there, he got a metal stick from his golf bag and gave it to me. I grabbed the stick, and he showed me how to hold it. Then, he told me to swing it. I swung it back and forth as careless as I could. He then said, "Son, you have one of the nicest golf swings I have ever seen." I did not even know what I was doing with that stick, but I guess my dad saw something I didn't. My father then decided that he was ready to teach me how to use the three clubs of golf: a putter, iron, and wood. He handed me the putter, and we went to the green. He explained to me that a putter is used on a green to get the ball into the hole. I took a few smooth swings back and forth to get a feel for a putter. He said, "Hit this ball until it goes into the hole." I was impressed with myself because it only took me six hits to get it in the hole. He laid twenty balls on the green, and he told me to hit every ball in with one shot. It took me about three hours, but I accomplished what my dad told me. He thought I was ready to try the next club, so we headed to the next location. We went out onto the fairway, and he handed me an iron. He laid out some more balls on the ground and told me to hit them towards the flag on the green. The first ball I hit did not even get close to the green. The rest of the balls I hit went either over or on the front of the green, but I never let another one fall short. My dad said, "Keep practicing until you hit all of the balls on the green." I kept practicing until all of the balls were laid up around the flag.