Striking Resemblance

“How do you think it’s gonna feel being home for the first time?” said the counselor with a look of sincerity that puzzled Jacob. “What do you mean?” Jacob replied, with a raised eyebrow. Gary had never shown any interest in Jacob’s life outside of reminding him of how insignificant it was, so why was he suddenly so interested in his departure from the orphanage. “Well, we received a letter from an estate attorney addressed to you and thought you might've been aware of it.” Aha! Jacob thought to himself. His intuition was once again, right on point, but he was admittedly caught off-guard with this letter.

He reached his hands out to grab it – slowly at first, as if he was afraid it was just another attempt to get under his skin – then quickly snatching it, crumpling the envelope in the process. “Now look at you! Boy finally gets some attention and he’s ready to tear up his meal ticket.” Gary said laughing devilishly. Jacob opened the envelope and read it aloud.

Dear Mr. Brathwaite,

I hope this message finds you well. I was appointed by the court to distribute your parent’s assets. I understand neither of them had a legal will upon their tragic passing. You were listed as their only descendent in the obituary.

I understand you may be confused as to why I am reaching out after all of these years. I had the pleasure of befriending your father. He was a genuine, hard-working man who would do anything for his family. We met at Crystal Lakes many years ago and all he could talk about was his new baby boy, Jacob. It pained my soul to hear, all these years later, that he’d passed. It frustrated me to know that your parent’s possessions had been frozen in the probate process. At least it gave me an opportunity to help.

You may collect your possessions from my office at Bradley & Sons Attorneys at Law anytime between 9am-5pm Monday-Friday.

I look forward to meeting you.

Regards,

Brian Bradley Jr., Esq.

When Jacob stepped off the bus outside of Bradley & Sons, he was overcome with emotion. All of his childhood memories about his parents started racing through his mind. A chuckle for the silly jokes his dad used to make. A smile for his mother’s warm embrace on a cold winter morning. A grimace for all the times he took them for granted. And a tear for the day they were taken from him. Just as the memory of that day began to take form, he was startled by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Hey there, sport! Boy, you look like you just saw a ghost!” said a tall, middle-aged man in a three-piece suit.

Jacob, still shaken from his trip down memory lane, turned and faced the man and said sheepishly, “Are you Mr. Bradley?”

The man let out a hearty laugh. “Please! Mr. Bradley is my father! Call me Junior. And you must be Jacob? What an honor to meet Jimmy B’s boy!”

Jimmy B? He thought to himself as they entered the office. He hadn’t heard that nickname before. It made him feel like he was among family. As they walked through the lobby, Jacob peered around like a would-be homebuyer moving hastily through a hot open house – head swiveling back and forth between client meeting rooms and partner offices, he didn’t even realize Junior had come to a stop right in front of him.

*Umph*

“Woah there, cowboy! You’ve gotta at least take me to dinner first!” Junior said laughing.

Jacob rolled his eyes at the sentiment as he continued. “Lemme school you on something, son. Your generation spends so much time nosing around what other people got that you end up missing what’s right in front of ya!”

Jacob wondered how such a simple mistake could have triggered such a deep thought… That must be how he affords such a nice office! He thought to himself.

“My daddy started this firm fifty years ago and I'm lucky enough to run the place now. Some call that luck. Well, I say, luck favors the prepared! Anyway, here we are.” Junior guided Jacob into the room like a doorman at the Ritz.

There they stood – four feet tall, casting a shadow twice its length from the center of the room to Jacob’s feet in the doorway. A pristine set of seemingly unused, handcrafted golf clubs. He slowly walked along the unlit path until he was close enough to touch them.

“I knew your daddy was a groundskeeper... Not sure how he acquired a set quite like this... Nevertheless, I knew it was worth getting them to ya.” Junior said with a sense of moral fortitude.

Jacob stood silent in the middle of the room, admiring the persimmon heads on the driver and fairway wood. He thought about all of the long days his father spent working the grounds of that club. As far as he knew, his dad didn’t know how to play golf. He took the first job that would have him after his mom got pregnant. Even if he did somehow learn, he wouldn’t have been granted course access anyway. Jacob had experienced enough prejudice in his eighteen years to empathize with his father in that regard.

He pulled one of the irons out of the bag and admired its hickory shaft.

“Not sure if you play at all, but here’s something I know you’ll be able to use.” Junior said assumingly, as he tossed a keyring in Jacob’s direction. The keys jingled as Jacob snatched them out of the air.

“It's not much, but it'll getcha where you're going. Hopefully the ol' girl serves you well like she did your daddy.”

It was a lot to process, but Jacob found the capacity to thank Junior and hit the road.

Jacob pulled over to the side of the road on the outskirts of his hometown. He felt a strange mix of confusion and motivation. After fifteen years of being alone, he was suddenly in the presence of a very intimate connection to his past.

How did his dad attain these clubs?

He started searching the bag in hopes of finding some answers. Within seconds he was pulling a small black moleskin yardage book from the side pocket of the bag. He had never handled something with this much care in his life. He reclined the driver seat and began to read the first page.

Dear son,

If you are reading this, then it means that you’ve persevered. It means that you’ve grown into a young man that your mother and I knew you would be. We’re so proud of you, Jake.

It also means that something has happened to us and we can’t be there for you physically anymore. I’m sure that isn’t a shock to you by now. Time heals all wounds, but we cannot let it erase our history, son.

I worked hard for years and had very little to show for it, materially. You cannot quantify a man by the sum of his possessions. Remember that, son. I took what little tips I earned and used it to rent time in the woodshop to make these clubs for you. I hope they can offer you a means by which to make something of yourself.

The rest of this book is full of tips and tricks I overheard from club members and instructors at Crystal Lakes, plus some life advice that I couldn’t let you go on without hearing from your old man. Maybe they’ll be worth something to you if you ever decide to pick up the family business.

Love,

Dad

Jacob let the book lay open across his chest as warm tears fell down his cheeks onto the headrest. He wiped the tears from his eyes as he began contemplating his next move.

I'm gonna need a job if I'm gonna keep making it on my own, he thought.

So, following in his father's footsteps, with very little to lose, he charted his course to Crystal Lakes.

The next day Jacob pulled up to the club and was greeted by an uncomfortable amount of fanfare. His stomach began to churn when he realized what was taking place. What were the odds? He thought to himself. The club Pro-am! On today of all days?

Jacob quickly pulled over and turned to page two of his father’s yardage book:

“You are where you need to be. Don’t compare yourself to others, only yourself. If all you do is all you’ve ever done, all you’ll get is all you’ve ever gotten".

Jacob closed the book, grabbed his clubs, and made a beeline for the registration tent.

As he awaited his start, he could hear the murmurs from the gallery – people seemed to be really concerned about this new mystery competitor. He pondered more sage advice from his father’s yardage book – “A lack of confidence breeds results that lack conviction.” He removed his handcrafted driver from his bag and proceeded to the tee box. He could feel the spirit of his father around him as he went to address his ball. As soon as he established his grip, he felt the club take complete control of his body. His mind slipped into an acute flow state. His hands reared back. And with tranquil ferocity, he unleashed the shot heard around the course. Jacob Brathwaite had arrived.

By the end of the round, Jacob had amassed a substantial following. Among them – a golf scout from the state college with a keen eye for untapped potential. He had seen enough to take a chance on this mystery stud. Jacob had just landed his final approach shot on the green and was waiting to knock in his putt for the win. The words from one of the final pages of his father’s notebook rang clear in the back of his head – “Read, assess, trust, putt, learn, repeat. Life becomes less stressful once you realize that’s all you can do.”

*Tap*

As the ball hit the bottom of the cup, he removed his cap and let the warm sunrays bathe his face like a round of applause from his angelic audience. Before Jacob could even feel the nerves from his unfamiliar surroundings, he was sealing his first tournament win – with the help of his father at caddy, of course.

He slid his putter back into the bag and snapped out of his flow state. Smiling to himself, he opened up to the last page of the yardage book and read to himself.

“Strive for more!”

Before he could close the book, he heard a voice from a distance – “Hey young man, wait up!” said the man. “I’ve been working this circuit for decades; I’ve never seen a display of raw talent like that in my life. What if I told you I can offer you a scholarship to play golf?”

Jacob needed to actively work to keep his jaw from dropping. “We can offer you $5,000 annually. That’ll cover tuition. You’ll have to work evenings and weekends at the club caddying and giving lessons to cover your room and board… I know $20,000 probably doesn’t sound like much to you. And I won’t kid ya, it’ll be a lot of work, but...”

Jacob stopped him in his tracks. Then, gripping his notebook tightly in his left hand, grinning from ear to ear, he shook his hand and said, “I’m ready for more.”

“That’s great to hear, son. I’ll make a few calls and we’ll get the particulars all squared away… By the way, you bear a striking resemblance to an old friend. Gosh, I haven’t thought of that name in years.”

He paused and gave Jacob a good look up and down.

“He’s probably before your time… Might be worth a shot… You ever hear of a guy named Jimmy B?”