I was raised to be a basketball player. Most little girls want to be princesses or ballerinas when they grow up; I wanted to play in the WNBA. My dad and I spent hours every day shooting hoops and practicing ball-handling drills. My favorite part about playing basketball was spending time with my dad, but the older I got the more I hated it.
My dad and I constantly fought about my basketball career and grew apart during my first two years of middle school. During eighth grade, my dad experienced kidney failure and was forced to have a transplant. I was constantly anxious as a result of his health problems, and I didn’t want anything to do with basketball. My freshman year of high school was the first year of girls’ high school golf in Utah. I thought I’d give competitive golf a try because I remembered how much fun my dad and I had playing in parent-junior scrambles before he got sick.
My dad became my swing coach, my caddy, and, once again, my best friend. Golf reduced my anxiety, and my dad and I never fought. When he was diagnosed with facial nerve cancer my sophomore year of high school, our daddy-daughter golf dates became the highlight of my week. Without my dad, I wouldn’t have achieved my goals to help my high school golf team win a state championship, receive a college golf scholarship, or become a traveling communications intern with the American Junior Golf Association (AJGA). Unfortunately, my dad continues battling cancer after six years, but our daddy-daughter golf dates live on. Deciding to play golf is the best decision I’ve ever made.
By: Megan Terry