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In less than three weeks, golf has developed a complicated relationship with our coronavirus world.
The early consensus was that the game could be altered slightly and thrive as one of the few remaining sports to be played recreationally, all while adhering to social-distancing guidelines.
Remove rakes, allow one player per cart, modify holes so a flagstick doesn’t need to be touched, maintain distance from others and, without much trouble, it seems you have played a round of golf without spreading the virus.
That notion is being challenged with every stay-at-home mandate, with some officials outright ordering that courses close with no option of accepting play. As the number of confirmed coronavirus cases skyrockets worldwide, the discussion about whether golf courses should remain open no doubt will continue to ignite passionate opinions.
Some understandably prefer the route of maximum caution to ensure no course or player is responsible for anyone’s dire health. Others point out how courses desperately need the business as much as golfers long for an escape from the headlines.
I can’t say which is right. I can only say that playing golf with these alterations, while still quite enjoyable, makes me appreciate parts of the game I hadn’t noticed in some time.
One, above all else: golf’s long-standing tradition of handshakes and embraces.
A handshake in daily life is a signal of peace, but in golf it is a salute to a shared struggle. The final putt of an hours-long journey has been holed, the hat removed from your head to show the disheveled hair of an exhausted competitor. No matter how each player has performed, no matter how serious the journey, they’ve fought the beast of the day.
The trail has been traversed. Even the easiest trek has thorns, often supplied by the golfer. Anyone who has reached the end, regardless of the number of holes played, has accomplished something by being there.
To shake hands in that moment is the signature on your scorecard personified. And no matter if you weren’t keeping score – those are often the most compelling rounds of all.
It has always felt like a formality; a tradition of respect we’ve repeated out of habit. On second look, maybe these handshakes have spoken more for the game than a holed putt ever could.
In the rare moments where a handshake won’t suffice, some of the game’s greatest stories have been told. Nicklaus putting his arm around Watson at Turnberry. Payne holding Phil’s face at Pinehurst. Tiger hugging his dad at the ’97 Masters, and then doing the same with his kids 22 years later.
Few could relate to these players’ golf skill, but we all could relate to being empathetic and vulnerable as they were. The shared emotion came to us then, all in the most human of interactions.
Those final touches, from legends and golfers at large, have to be put away for now.
One day, they’ll come back. Don’t let them go.
Sean Fairholm