April 7 - My Dream Foursome
I want to take the opportunity to write my first article for TheMirl.com about my new passion. That
passion is golf. Now to many, this may not be a big deal. For this writer, it is.
Growing up, I loved sports. I still do today. By the age of four I had attended almost any and every
sporting event in New York. You name it, I was there. Islanders. Knicks. Nets (ABA). Mets. Jets.
Cosmos (outdoor soccer). Arrows (indoor soccer). I even attended the 1976 Olympics in Montreal with
my parents. I was the typical child, participating in youth baseball, soccer and basketball. I was on the
varsity tennis team in High School. But, there was one sport I could not stand…GOLF!
Whenever we would visit my grandparents’ house in West Hempstead, golf was on the television.
There could be a different sporting event on another channel, but it did not make a difference. “This is
boring!” would be a typical comment out of my mouth. Little did I know.
Today, I have to say, that I am addicted. I have a small pillow that reads, “I only play golf on days ending
in ‘Y’!” I live across the street from a golf course. Many times last summer my wife would wake up only
to find I was not home. The minute my awakening eyes saw the blue sky, I was out the door and across
the street. I watch golf on television and dream of hitting my drives like Tiger or Michelle Wie. I envision
having a championship putt like fellow lefty golfer Phil Mickelson (except my championship putt is for an
Yes, I have learned to love the game, but I learned to love the game too late. I learned to love the game
after the death of the man who really turned me onto it...my grandfather. He used to bring me to the
driving range hoping I would want to play. I swung lefty (because I learned to swing a baseball bat lefty)
and that would annoy him because he had a set of right-handed clubs waiting for me. He was waiting
for me to learn to love the game. And I did. Just a little too late.
Today, any chance I get, I play with my dad. I cherish every moment that we share on the course
together, just like I cherished every moment that we spent as coach and soccer player when I was
younger. We have a great time talking about golf, whether it be how we played that day or what
ridiculous shot we saw on TV. However, there is always something missing.
So when people ask me who I would love to have in my dream foursome, it is easy. My grandfather, my
father and myself. Who would be the fourth? It does not matter. The fourth can be anyone, as long as
the Schwartz men could play golf together. It is something I wish could happen, but physically it never
can. Every time I place the ball on the first tee, my grandfather is with me. And like I dedicate every
round I play, I dedicate this first article to my grandfather, Irwin Schwartz.