The Obvious Diamond in the Rough

It had been a long time since I'd been to Holmby Park. It's not a place most people have heard of or that anyone would notice. It's mostly just used as a running place for playboy bunnies, a place to conspire with old cronies or somewhere that you're dog can take a big dump. The people that live around the park are insanely wealthy as the homes on the northern side of the course back up to Los Angeles C.C. Aaron Spelling's house looms over one of the corners like a medieval fortress, lacking in nothing but a moat and a catapult (although I've never seen the other side of the wall so I can't be conclusive about the catapult). It's an oversight at best.

But for three years of my life it was my personal heaven. When I went to college I entered on a golf scholarship. Golf was my life, it was one of the ways I defined myself. And since I didn't have a girlfriend and didn't have many friends that were not on the golf team, golf was a large part of my self definition.

I got introduced to Holmby Park on one of the first days of September when I first moved into my dorms. The golf team would always get called back early and after practice we'd nap, watch tv or whatever. But some days we'd go to Holmby Park.

It was more than a park for us though, because it had and still does have a small golf course consisting of 18 holes. All of the holes are under eighty yards and most under 50 and the greens are miniscule and crowned like oversized buttons. We had a few beers, Parker would take his shirt off and we'd go play.

I was hooked on the place immediately, and that wasn't even because it only cost two dollars to play but because of how amazingly obvious that this was a hidden gem. I never have seen much play on it. Occasionally I'll see some parent taking their child out to play, or the L.A.C.C. caddies betting money in the summer after noons, but it largely stands unplayed.

While i was on the golf team it became a place for me to hang out, develop my short game but also to let it sink in. It never ceased to amaze me that all these people were using the park but it was rare to see many people if any actually playing the course.

The last time I played it was after a round in the last part of August in 2004. My coach at the time, OD Vincent, had told me that I had to requalify for the golf team and so there I was at the end of August Making an attempt to requalify.

The task seemed simple enough, shoot par over five rounds in three days and I'd be back on the team. It was even held at one of the courses I tended to play well, Robinson Ranch.

I had patched together a decent round on the first three round in two days. I was a couple under. But I went to Holmby just to calm myself down after the second day. We had only played one round that day and so I decided to play around there just to calm myself down.

Like all the other times, it worked. I felt better about it. Somehow playing in that family park just allows me to drop the tension that I am feeling and just play. Only that wasn't good enough for the next day.

I played alright in the morning but I needed to solidify my spot with a half way decent round in the afternoon. I was close coming in, and needed a birdie on the last hole to finish. Unfortunately I dunked the ball in the water on the last, bogeyed and just like that I'm off the team.

To make matters worse, my spineless coach isn't even there. No thanks for playing for the last two years. No good bye, I was just done.

Sometimes I envision him, sitting in the clubhouse watching everyone come in. Only he sees me hit it in the water on the last hole and, instinctively, he knows. I didn't make it. But he's such a coward that he walks directly to the car and drives home.

That's probably not true, but the fact is that he didn't even call or return my calls was upsetting. After that, and the fact that most of my teammates on the team wouldn't talk to me, I became really upset. Not just at the fact that I had screwed up, lost part of my identity. Breene the UCLA golfer was no more. It was just how fucked up the whole situation was.

After that I've probably played less than 15 rounds of golf in the last four years. I used to play that during a week in the summer. And because of that I had forgotten about Holmby Park.

I still go up to LA a lot. To see friends, go to Dodger games, UCLA games, etc. It's been a long while since I even thought about Holmby though. I think I became so numb to the whole golf thing that I forgot what I really liked about it in the first place.

Yeah, I knew that I loved the competition, to beat someone. But I was lying to myself when I thought that the love of competition was all it was. There was something, a simplicity and a beauty to it that I had misplaced.

So a couple days ago Salman Rushdie (an amazing writer and one of my favorites) was speaking up in LA. He was also signing books at a bookshop nearby so I tried to get there on time and get a signed copy.

It took me forever to get out of Laguna and I knew I wasn't going to get there in time for the book signing so I called my friend, Marissa, and asked if she might get me one while she's there. No big deal she said so I wasn't worried.

It did, however, pose the problem of having a couple hours to kill in between the book signing and his talk. So I didn't know what to do.

But I had my golf clubs in the car because I was to go to Canada to see Haz about a script I'm rewriting for him. He just happens to love golf so I thought I'd bring the sticks along.

So the clubs are in my car. Tucked away in my travel bag, but I figure "oh, what the hell. Might as well."

I had an awesome time, completely by myself, just pitching the ball around the course. I have gone and played real courses with friends before, but only to enjoy their company. I had never really gotten over the whole golf thing and secretly just sort of tried to stave off my distaste for it.

But this was not how my Holmby day was. I relaxed and enjoyed swinging the club, the solid contact and the crisp feel of a good wedge shot. I liked listening to the tiny little brook gurgle and amble through the park. That the putts missed or a shot was thinned didn't even seem to bother me because I had uncovered what I had once loved.