Page 54 of Sweet Spot
Mia tees off first. A nice start with a drive around two hundred and fifty yards. Not all that long, but it left her in a good position on the fairway.
When my name is announced, I step up and position my teed ball just right of the center of the box. I do a quick glance for Coach, but don’t find him. It shouldn’t surprise me, but it still does. I bet he’ll be here to watch the others tee off.
There isn’t time to be disappointed or to wish things were different. This is my moment, my time to prove I don’t just belong here, I’m here to win.
Lincoln lingers on the sideline with a few other spectators. His eyes bore into me, silently communicating everything I need to hear.Relax, have fun, you can do this.
I can do this.
The hole fits my strengths perfectly. It has a wide fairway and a gentle right to left dogleg. I take aim dead center with the intention of letting my draw move the ball toward the left edge of the fairway, which will setup a perfect approach. I take a breath and swing hard.
The ball screams down the center of the fairway with a hint of a draw. Holy crap.
I’m stunned for a moment as the crowd claps enthusiastically because not only did it go exactly where I wanted but also ended up sixty yards past Mia’s.
20
Lincoln
The crowdat the fourteenth hole is twice as big as the one that was at the ninth hole. And it’s all because of the amazing show Keira is putting on. With each hole, she finds a little more confidence, and people are getting to see the version of Keira that only I’ve been privy to. Well, me and her dickhead coach who wouldn’t know talent if it slapped him upside the head.
Speaking of, Potter walks up from wherever the fuck he’s been, a big, proud smile on his face. Hands on hips, he hangs back while Keira takes her turn. It’s another beautiful shot on the short par four, putting her in a great position close to the pin and beating Mia Arnold’s drive by a good thirty yards.
The crowd claps and starts to walk, but I hang back, watching as Potter approaches her. A hesitant smile pulls her lips apart like she’s afraid to believe he’s actually there and praising her.
They walk toward her ball together, all the while he’s talking to her, waving his hands and suddenly super involved. Trying to temper my annoyance, I move with the rest of the spectators.
Mia Arnold’s coach smiles reassuringly and gives her a few small claps to get her going. Keira’s intimidated her, out driving her on every single hole and flying by her on the leaderboard as if she’s on a do-or-die mission.
My girl is focused but relaxed, having fun and kicking ass. It’s a real pleasure just to be watching. And the energy of the crowd tells me it isn’t my own personal bias speaking.
I bring my index finger to my mouth and bite my knuckle while I wait for her turn. After Mia takes her second shot, Keira goes to grab her wedge. Potter stops her, talks to her for a second, and then backs away as she switches her club to a nine iron, looking a bit hesitant.
It isn’t a good move. The hole sits on a slope. Keira is longer than the average female player, and if she goes long, she’s not going to have any green to work with. No coach I know would play this hole like he’s instructing Keira to do.
Shit. I don’t wanna watch, but I do because if there’s a chance Keira’s going to look over for support, I need to make sure she sees whatever reassurance she needs on my face.
The crowd is none the wiser. They watch with hope that they’re going to see her move up another spot on the scoreboard. She’s six under par for the day putting her in third place overall, but at the rate she’s dropping birdies, she has a shot to win the whole dang thing.
As she gets into position, her demeanor is less confident than it’s been all day. She doesn’t glance at the crowd or her coach before she draws back.
I can tell as soon as she gets to the top of her swing that it’s going to be long. I tense as it sails through the air, and stop tracking the ball and watch her instead. She knows it too and her eyes fall to the ground at her feet.
The heartbroken sigh of the crowd puts a voice to the pain in my gut. Potter doesn’t show any sign of understanding the magnitude of his fuck up. His face settles into a serious expression that gives nothing away. He should be kicking himself for his utter stupidity.
He gives Keira a nod and a go-ahead signal to take her next shot, clearly not sensing her mood. She’s freaked. It may only be one mistake, but an unforced error like that can mess with your head. Lifting my hat, I rake my hands through my hair.
“Look at me, Keira. Look up. Come on,” I mumble under my breath, willing her to look at me. “Take a breath. You’re okay.”
The guy next to me furrows his brow, and I feel him staring, but fuck if I can give him a second thought. If I thought it wouldn’t throw her off more, I’d be shouting it to her. Screw the rules, screw the man holding the quiet sign.
Everything inside me screams that this is all wrong. She’s off, spiraling inside, and I can’t stop it.
I cross my arms and squeeze them into my body to keep myself still.
The next shot isn’t awful, but it doesn’t redeem her, and she ends up one over for bogey.
Coach Potter visibly withdraws from her and even the crowd senses the shift in their favorite new underdog. Still, they hang around through fifteen and part of sixteen. But with each shot, they lose a little more hope, and so does she.
