If you were to Google Juan de Fuca Golf Course you’ll find a par 3 course on Vancouver Island where the holes range from 80-170 yards. $15 to play. Why would a grown man (the girlfriend would say I’m more of a man-child hybrid) need revenge at a par 3 course? More on that to come…

With Mother Nature recently pushing pause on the 2019 golf season (I told you all it was too early for golf season!) I recently deployed a tactic that helped me get through the winter and got me thinking happy thoughts again of the golf season (still!) to come. I went and revisited the calendars and itineraries for my upcoming golf trips. And boy, do I have some bangers lined up. But you’ll all get updates on those as they happen.

At the end of May the Neiler family will be headed to Victoria for a weekend getaway. It will be a quick visit back to our old stomping grounds (yes, we moved away from the island for some reason) and a few rounds of golf will definitely be included. Right now we have committed to Bear Mountain, Olympic View, and potentially Cordova Bay.

If you have any other recommendations hit me up in the comments. But remember, I’m only looking for “bangers”.

I have only golfed once on the island and that was 15 years ago so I am quite excited to go back and do it right. However this memorable, one time that I teed it up happens to be the origin of my earliest memories and moments on a golf course. So let’s throw it back to 2003 and enter: Juan de Fuca Golf Course.

juan cover.jpg
The parents obviously knew this was going to be a historic moment for young Ryan’s golfing career so they saved the score card. The final damage soon to follow…

Ryan at 10 years old: cute, skinny, very mild mannered, but whenever sports were involved that calm demeanour would just disappear. Like, I would get alarmingly angry if things did not go my way. So why not introduce this fiery sports enthusiast to the most ridiculous sport of them all? Seems like a good move right?

Not on this day.

If you ever meet Papa Neiler he would love to tell you the story in full detail. Listening to it for the classic Jay giggle is well worth it.

As you can see on the scorecard below, a double “x” finish really sums up the…. experience, for lack of a better term. I have been told that the day was beautiful, standard for Vancouver Island I’m sure, but neither the scenery nor the company would affect my willingness to perform at expectations well beyond my beginner capabilities.

The display I would put on for the golf gods that day would make them all shudder in disgust and it’s probably the reason for why I will never have a hole in one in my life.

A “misread” by my “caddie” on the 8th hole was the last straw of a round that was peaking to quite the outburst. I exploded after the putt missed on the low side (at least I knew that I missed on the “amateur” side and maybe the disappointment was warranted?), hurled my putter in disgust, slammed my ball into the green and proclaimed to the gods that I would never play again.

I’m guessing the 8 was the beginning of the end…

Bubba blames his caddie so why can’t I?

I’m giggling thinking about what could have been going through the minds of the foursome waiting on the tee box behind us as this little person is throwing the biggest temper tantrum known to golf yard-sailing golf clubs and yelling towards the sky.

I can remember a few more instances over the course of my childhood with moderate outbursts on the golf course but nothing will compare to that faithful day at Juan de Fuca Golf Course. And the best part about this story, is that I’m not one of those fully grown adults you see on social media that loses their mind mid round throwing their clubs in the nearest body of water. I got that out of my system early.

Safe to say, times have changed. I couldn’t imagine not playing this fun, albeit frustrating game. Now, “revenge” might not fit the theme for a family golf trip but I’ll definitely take some closure and hopefully get back in the golf gods’ good books.


One Comment

  1. Jay

    Yes. I was there. It wasn’t pretty….Papa Neiler

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