The Hardest Putt

If you've never played miniature golf before, you might assume the hardest putt is the one around the windmill.  Or the one that has to bank off two walls.  Or maybe the one where the hole is hiding behind an obstacle.

The Windmill

After more than a hundred events, I've become convinced that it's none of those.  For them, the hardest putt usually happens before the game has even started.

Every event has someone keeping a respectful distance just outside the golf course area.  They're not against miniature golf.  They just aren't quite joining in.

"You guys go ahead."

"I'll just watch."

Sometimes they have a drink in one hand. Sometimes they're talking with friends. Sometimes they seem determined to look perfectly content standing there by themselves. Whatever the reason, they're standing just far enough away that someone else has to make the first move.

The interesting part is that there's almost always another person nearby who seems to know exactly what to do.  They don't make a speech.  They don't tease.  They don't pressure.  They simply hand them a putter, and say,

"Come on."

"Just one putt."

"I'll play with you."

I've watched that little exchange enough times that I almost know how the story ends before the first ball is struck.  The first putt is a courtesy.  The second is curiosity.  By the fourth hole they're smiling.  By the ninth they're debating whether that bank shot should have counted and asking if there's time for another round.  Somewhere between that first putt and the last one, the hesitation quietly disappears.

The funny thing is, I don't think the person holding out the extra putter is trying to change anyone. They're just the sort of person who naturally notices someone standing on the edge of the group, and without making a fuss about it, they make room.

I'm happy to say that there are people like that everywhere. They're the coworker who notices someone eating lunch alone. The neighbor who waves you over. The friend who says, "Come with us," as though it never occurred to them you might say no.

I admire those people more than they probably realize.  Not because they're outgoing, but because they have a quiet confidence that says, "You're going to enjoy this." They don't wait until they're certain you'll say yes. They simply decide you're worth inviting.

Looking back, I can think of more than a few times I almost said no to an experience because I wasn't sure I felt like going.  I'm grateful for the people who quietly ignored my hesitation.  I doubt they remember those moments, but I do.

I wonder how many of life's hardest putts happen before anyone ever touches a golf ball. The people who help us take them rarely make a big deal about it. They simply hand us a putter.

...and somehow make that first, hardest putt a little bit easier.