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Why I’m Thankful My Dad Got Me Into Golf

Why I'm Thankful My Dad Got Me Into Golf

Like many women who play golf I have my father to thank for it. He’s the one who first took me to a driving range to hit balls, who used to take me around pitch and putt courses packed with disapproving men at the weekend, and who I spent countless hours practice putting with. Like many daughters, my relationship with dad revolved around playing sport. I was the tomboy of the household who loved nothing more than kicking a football with him in the garden, playing bat and ball on every family beach holiday and spending endless evenings in our garage playing darts or table tennis together. 

Golf was a natural progression. He introduced me to the game when I was 13. Despite being an 18-handicapper at his best, dad used to like to think he was good enough to teach me how to play all the shots, especially his Jack Nicklaus-style putting stroke! As a junior he caddied for me in the Dorset county championships, although if I’m honest, it wasn’t a ‘daddy-caddy’ relationship made in heaven. There were definitely times when he couldn’t hold his tongue, asking why on earth I’d played a certain shot? (As if I meant to hit it into the trees!)

Daddy Caddy

Carly Frost with her father 

(Image credit: Carly Frost)

There’s no doubt a good father-daughter relationship is the foundation for a lifetime of love and laughter, however, add golf into the equation and it does seem to mix things up somewhat. I’ve been around golf long enough to have seen all the dad stereotypes from the “my daughter is going to be on the LET next year” bragging dad (of a six handicapper) to the ones who appear to be doing practically everything for their kids, except of course actually hitting the shot.

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