So let the games start, you better run you little wild heart

Last week Jack spent several days at a golf camp, putting the clubs that his grandfather gave him to very good use. He seemed to enjoy it, despite the fact that it was the WOLFPACK (as in NC State) golf camp. All campers received Wolfpack paraphernalia, and earlier this week Jack left the house in a bright red baseball cap with “Wolfpack Golf Camp” on the front.

Even at 7, he is much further advanced with golf that I ever was. In my town, no kids played golf; I didn’t know any adults who played either. Obviously, no one had clubs, and I didn’t even know where the nearest course was located. Golf was seen as a country club sport, strictly for the wealthy elite.

We played baseball, football and basketball, in season, for hours and hours at a time.

So my golf experience is mostly limited to this. To me, nothing could be better golf-wise than Ed Norton addressing the ball (“Hello, ball!”).

But I also can’t forget my many hours on miniature golf courses in places like Harvey’s Lake and the old Asbury Park boardwalk.

Although I am happy Jack likes golf (and tae kwon do – even more foreign to me growing up), I am hoping he takes more of an interest in the big three sports of my youth. He has already spent several seasons playing flag football, and he likes it and, he’s GOOD. Determined with a real nose for the ball, he has a real flair for defense and pursuit.

But some think flag football will lead to real football. You know, the one with concussions and torn ACLs. Sort of a gateway sport, if you will.

Don't want to take any chances, so maybe he can play a little baseball, as he has a good arm and can really hit the ball.

But I’m OK with golf, at long as he takes off that Wolfpack hat.