The Lancer Way: Samantha Martirez
11/7/2019 4:19:00 PM | Women's Golf, The Lancer Way
All of the words are their own.
The Lancer Way is a new platform provided by California Baptist University's Athletic Department that allows student-athletes to share their stories.
Written By: Samantha Martirez, Women's Golf, Manggahan Pasig City, Philippines
"Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference."
This Winston Churchill quote is something Coach Marc Machado has liked to tell us a lot all throughout my college career.
I wish someone had told me this in my early years of playing golf.
I've always been fiery and emotional, especially at a young age. When I hit a lousy shot, miss a putt or bogey a hole, I've been known to show my anger in many forms: slamming my clubs, complaining to anyone who would listen, moping…
It's not my proudest moments.
Throughout my years of playing golf, my mom has always dubbed me as a perfectionist. My peers back in the Philippines think I'm too aggressive and fiery and a hothead. In my defense, all I have ever wanted is to hold the first-place trophy every time I step into the tournament.
I guess the pursuit of having a "perfect" round of golf matched with my fiery, emotional personality has been the source of my motivation.
While that's a good thing to some extent, I eventually learned there should be a balance.
A wake-up call for me was during our home tournament at Goose Creek Golf Club. At the time, I'm hitting the ball well for the first time in years. This fueled my confidence, but the pressure to do well in this tournament, especially since it's in our team's home course and a course that I like, begins to feel like a ticking time bomb for me like it's waiting to go off at any second.
On the first day of our home tournament, I find myself at a rocky start as I battle the firm greens of Goose Creek. In the first three holes of the tournament, I'm already 2-over-par. That day, my round begins to go downhill as I struggle to get my score even to count. Even though I have been hitting a lot of good shots throughout the round, I end up shooting 5-over with no birdies and sit at 18th place with seven shots off the leader. At the end of the round, all I can hear is that little voice in my head, telling me how much of a failure I am.
After each tournament round, a team meeting is held back at the hotel. Since this is our home tournament, the team meeting is held at the golf course's clubhouse. By this time, I already know most of my teammates' scores, and I can feel so many emotions wash over me like a tidal wave. I'm not sure if it's anger at myself for shooting that big of a score or if it's anger towards my teammates for beating me. I guess it's also shame for thinking I can even measure up to my peers despite my extensive experience in this sport.
Nonetheless, my hands tremble as I take my seat. I'm a grenade of rage that's waiting to explode.
"Any thoughts for today?" Coach Marc asks. He always starts with this phrase at every team meeting.
"It was good."
"I thought I played good, but it could be better."
"Yeah, me too."
"It was terrible," I say. My voice cracks and my throat begins to tighten. I want to scream. "Today was just terrible. My round was crap…"
"Oh my gosh, stop!" one of my teammates says, her voice is sharp enough to cut through my sentence. I guess she got tired of hearing me rant about my round. "Can you please just stop?"
You know that saying, "you can't fight fire with fire"? I'm pretty sure this is the perfect moment for this saying.
"Don't tell me what to do," I fire back.
Then, another teammate chimed in to back up my other teammate. I can't exactly remember what she had said. The meeting had already erupted into chaos as we jab each other with words that are sharp as knives.
"Okay. Okay. Stop it!" Coach Marc's voice immediately cuts through our chaos. Then, he turns to me, "We'll talk later."
When he asks us to name one positive thing in each round, I stop myself from saying, "Nothing."
Instead, I tell him I hit the ball well today. However, it doesn't show in my score.
I wait until the end of the team meeting, which feels like torture. As soon as the team meeting ends, coach pulls me aside. All the anger in me has vanished. I'm just drained.
"You can't keep doing this," Coach says. At least, that's how I remembered it anyway.
"You can't just rain on everybody's parade when everyone plays better than you. The team's leading, and you're here sulking."
I don't really remember what happens after that, though. But what I do remember is the guilt that knotted in my stomach. I realize I had hurt my teammates. It's supposed to be a happy occasion, a happy day for all of us because we're leading the tournament. At that moment, it's the first time I realize that my anger has made me selfish.
Looking back, I realize that anger can be like fire. It's good enough to keep a person warm but harmful enough to burn anyone around it.
While my anger has been the main source of my drive, it's also why I isolated myself from other people. It's become this restriction that's keeping me from making meaningful relationships with people like my team, from being a better person, and from being a better player overall. My anger has not just hurt my team, but I have gotten hurt in the process, too.
It's been almost two years since that event, and whenever, I have a bad game or just a bad game in general, and I feel like I want to scream, my head immediately goes back to this moment at Goose Creek. By doing this, it's improved my relationships with a lot of people around me, with my team, especially. It's also made me into a mentally tough player.
Maybe coach was right.
Attitude does make a big difference.
Players Mentioned
