I apologize if this is a repost, but I've had some requests for this story and I wasn't able to find the detailed write-up that I had published a while ago... so without further adieu, here is how I got tarped as a Division 1 collegiate golfer.

I was entering my 3rd year of my five year program at the Univ of Cincinnati and decided to dedicate myself to walking on to the men's golf team. Collegiate golf had always been a dream and aspiration of mine, but it wasn't a critical element to my college decision. I had earned my way to UC via an academic scholarship in a pretty competitive business program, and I had decided that getting a good degree was more critical than teeing it up with a C-Paw on my bag.

Nonetheless I was constantly monitoring the progress of the team and I utilized some networks to communicate and become friendly with the coach. Unfortunately for me, the program was going through some major turnover and there were several interim coaches. By the time that my third year rolled around and my schedule allowed me to make tryouts, there was a new face at the helm.

There wasn't much time to develop any type of rapport with him and I collected all the information for walk-on tryouts, fees, and assuring that I covered every necessary step to give myself the best shot at making the team. I had worked very hard at my game and had some decent success in summer tournaments and I was looking forward to pitting my game against everyone and seeing if I could compete with D-1 golfers.

Tryouts began with a brief introduction and overview of the rules and expectations of the competitors. There would be 3 rounds played with the possibility of a fourth round, if necessary. The play was stroke play and we were playing on a Greg Norman design layout just outside of Cincinnati, one of the tougher tracks in the Greater Cincinnati area.

Prior to the beginning of the tournament, I had asked the Coach directly what my status would be. I realized that my age/eligibility (entering 3 of 5 years of NCAA eligibility) was not insignificant and that it could play a role in my selection. I needed to know whether I was up against the field or against Old Man Par. For those golfers reading this, you know there is a drastic difference in strategy between the two. One is to beat my peers while the other was to go flag hunting and try to post low scores - hardly the same task.

Coach emphasized that selection would be made based off performance among peers and to not worry about my age.

I proceed to go out for three days and shoot a cumulative score of about 5-over par. By the end of the third round I had amassed a 10-stroke lead over the next closest competitor and even bested some of the team's varsity players who had played behind us each day in the same conditions, etc.

We huddled around and were informed that there would be no need for a fourth day of tryouts - I was in. . . or so I thought. He then proceeded to welcome the 2nd place (sophomore) and third place (freshman) finishers on the team and asked to talk to me separately.

Completely stunned by these developments, I remember standing stiffly in-front of him like a statue. He proceeds to tell me that I needed to do something to establish myself from the rest of the field given my age. I needed to prove that I can compete with some of the standing members of the team. Every little word and accent in his speech was like a needle on my skin. This couldn't be happening.

This was single-handedly the most emotional roller coaster I've experienced. After my round I felt all but assured that I had achieved my goals of making it on the team and it was swiftly taken away in a manner that I felt was unjust. Before I knew it, I had broken down in tears of frustration, anger, and confusion as he continued to feed the load of horses--- that he was spouting. I had poured my heart into the last three days and putted out on my 54th green with an immense sense of pride and accomplishment and suddenly found myself in a situation that was impossible to win. This guy was single-handedly smothering my dream.

Ultimately I decided to contact the athletic director at UC with the intention of raising awareness of the shenanigans going on. Academically, I couldn't have been happier with my situation, and I eventually accepted that I just wasn't meant to play college golf. Recreational golf with my close friends was for more appealing than wasting my energy on a bench under a Coach who I didn't respect. Magically, the details/scores and all the information about the tryouts weren't available when the athletic department investigated and the Coach had no recollection.


(Pic of me at impact)