I Just Wanted Snacks and a Sweater

I Just Wanted Snacks and a Sweater

If it wouldn’t have been a huge violation of course rules to pull my laptop out at the 8th hole tee box, I would have plopped myself on the ground and started typing away, happy to get grass stains all over my new bright white skirt. 

The crack off the driver had only just happened, and as that shot ripped down the fairway, I also felt it rip through my spirit. I was no longer seeing the stunning grounds in front of me. I was seeing myself in a way I hadn’t in a long time.

 There’s something about being next to a person at the very top of their game that does something to you that no amount of discipline, dutiful grinding, or desk time can replicate.

 It was gorgeous last Saturday at the US Women’s Open. One of those days that makes me say “why does anyone live anywhere other than Southern California??” Perfect 75 degrees. Light breeze. Not a cloud in the sky. And I get to wear a cute outfit?? Pinch me!

I’ve only just started playing golf. I’m about two years in, love the game, and had happily found some women’s golf groups to join after my move back to LA. But I went to the Open so that I chat with friends, buy cute merch (I’ve finally entered the quarter zip club, at long last!), and have a few snacks all in a beautiful space. Watching golf was actually the last thing on my mind that day. Work had been a little stalled and I was stuck in the middle of some projects without a clear path forward. This day was supposed to be laughing and snacking and forgetting my stresses. Plus, my cats had done some hilarious stuff the week before and I knew those stories were gonna kill.

So, after dropping too much money on like two items and filling my arms with yummy treats, I met my friends in their seats, ready to treat the course like a TV on the background and catch up with everyone who was there.

But as soon as I sat down, they stood up. “She’s about to tee off! Let’s go, let’s go!”

If I wanted to hang with my people and tell them how freaking cute my cats where, I was going to have to follow them. I shifted all my stuff in my arms to find balance, tried to eat my club sandwich while bopping down the stairs, and off we went.

They wanted to catch Korda on the first hole, and we walked up an extremely steep hill to do it. (Congratulations to my calves for not snapping in half). But it was too crowded, and we couldn’t see. Fine. I figured that exertion deserved a break. Maybe now we can eat and talk.

Nope. The group strategized about where to best catch her—and didn’t ask me one single question about what I’d been up to while they were doing it.  

Finally, the hive mind settled on a plan. We scurried over to the eighth hole and found a spot right behind the tee box. We were early enough that most of the crowd was still back on 7 and we were right up against the rope. I did have to squeeze sideways to the rope to make it work, but there I was. Now, maybe I could regale them with my funny stories so their laughter could reflect back to me my worthiness. 

I started in. “I have to show you this picture… “ But then they interrupted. “There she is, there she is!” I lifted my chin over the elbow of the man next to me as I turned to see. And yes, there she was, walking up to the tee.

Seeing her actually made my breath catch. Like so many celebs, you could see that she just had It. Her walk was calm. Her energy was wrapped around herself and her game. There was no rush, no worry, no urgency. She appeared so present and grounded. It was a little hypnotic.

She took her position.  

Swung.

Pure. 

The feeling that came up in me was something that I don’t feel often but love when I do. It’s kind of like the moment when you lock eyes with someone interesting and suddenly all things are possible. Or the moment when you spot a piece of art and your eyes water before you even register what you’re looking at.

When her club and ball connected, it was like for one split second, time and space expanded and I could see every practice, every failed shot, every injury, every late night, early morning, bit of bad news, and the will to keep going to see every beautiful shot, every gorgeous course, every trophy, every cheer, every drop of pride. 

And instantly, I felt the echo of that inside my body. I connected with all the reps I’d put in. the long days, the failures, the setbacks, the great pages, the jokes I loved, the performances I’ll always remember. Even though she and I do very different types of work, for one second, it felt like we were sharing a secret in the same language.

And in that moment, my coping mechanism of needing escape through a funny cat story disappeared as I was reunited to that powerful, creative, determined part of myself. Instantly, the work I had been blocked on became clear, ideas that were fuzzy sharpened into focus, and new ideas exploded in my brain like fireworks.

I no longer wanted to chitty chat about my kitty cats. I wanted to get my laptop and capture all the beautiful notions that suddenly made themselves available to me. Laptops weren’t actually allowed on the grounds, so I had to content myself with the knowledge that the answers were there waiting for me; and enjoy the fact that if I hadn’t stopped to watch that drive, I might have missed those answers all together.

For the rest of the day, my eyes were focused on the fairways, watching these incredible athletes do incredible work, and loving how connected I felt to my own process thanks to them.

We get a lot from focused hours at our own desk.

We get something irreplaceable from being witness to people whose work eclipses what we thought possible.

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I'm a screenwriter and creative consultant who works with studios, production companies, executives, and leaders. I take what's in your head and make it something people can feel, whether that's a script, speech, or story. If you're ready to start, email me at aydrea@aydreawalden.com.

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