Suleiman
THE LESSON
I'm always nervous before my golf lessons with Michael. I want to excel, but I worry whether I'll achieve my goal of improving enough to compete in the national blind championship next year. That would be as fulfilling as completing my first New York Marathon, which I did last November.
As a teenager, I was sad and lonely because of my deteriorating sight, so I never played sports. But now I swim, run and golf, and the games give me confidence and joy. When Michael asked if I thought I could learn to practice alone, he had some doubt in his voice, but I had no reservations. By the end of the lesson, I was confident and joyous. It felt like the finish line of the marathon.
NEW CLUBS
Cobra gave me a new set of clubs, which were shipped to Rick Lipsey's house. (Rick is the reporter at Sports Illustrated who set up this project.) It was very exciting to visit Rick and pick up my clubs. Growing up in Tanzania, I never could have imagined such a gift.
We met in the lobby of his apartment building, and Rick showed me the bag and clubs. We walked to the subway, and it felt good to carry the clubs. Rick tried to stop me before going through the turnstile, saying he'd carry them, but I slid through by myself. I may be blind, but I can get around. I have no choice.
I'm sure people were staring at me on the platform and the train. It must be strange to see a blind man with a golf bag. Just before arriving at my stop, I knelt down to feel the floor to check if any clubs had fallen out. None had. Then I exited the train and walked down the platform to the elevator. When I got on, the elevator operator said: "Golf? How the hell do you do it?"
He was genuinely shocked.
I politely explained that I play by feel and that he could read about my experience on the Internet. I'm not sure he believed me.
CHELSEA PIERS
I never go anyplace new without learning the route first — what subways and buses to take, where to sit so I can exit at the right spot, where the potholes are, what the building is like, etc. Then I need time to mentally review the trip and imprint the information in my mind.
So, Rick drove me to Chelsea Piers one morning for my initial visit. The place was so loud. I was very distracted by the clacking balls, the balls piping through tubes, helicopters flying overhead, boats honking their horns. This was definitely not Sunningdale. I hit a few good shots and used the address routine Michael gave me. But many shots were quite poor, and I missed some altogether.
Because of the noise, I couldn't easily hear where my ball landed. That made it less fun and harder to tell how I was doing. Nothing is easy for blind people, I guess, so I'll have to learn to deal with obstacles like this.
A few days later, I set out alone for Chelsea Piers. On the way, my cane got caught in the subway doors. When the doors opened, another passenger told me my cane had broken. I am in big trouble without a cane, almost helpless, but other passengers helped me onto the platform and went upstairs to get the police.
I filled out a report and the police drove me to The Lighthouse, a center for visually impaired people on East 59th Street that sells walking canes. (It was a strange ride; police cars do not have much legroom.) By the time the police drove me back to the subway, it was late afternoon, so I went home. My golfing independence would have to wait.
A few days later, I tried again. This time was a success. The subway ride was smooth. I took the bus across 23rd Street and walked down the sidewalk along the West Side Highway to the range at Chelsea Piers.
The receptionist was a bit surprised to see me alone, but she found somebody to guide me to the automated hitting bays. Then I was alone. I had paid for 80 balls at the front desk. I inserted my card in the reader, and my first ball popped up on a rubber tee from below the mat. I took the ball off the tee, positioned it on the mat, addressed it and swung away.
I was very comfortable and hit some good shots. The more I do this, the better I will get. There is hope.
