I was a dorky kid.

I didn't really know it at the time....and by the time I figured it out, I really didn't care.

I was quiet. I played the saxophone (faked it my first two years!). I didn't like playing video games, but I could memorize the Legend of Zelda map and loved doing stats while my friends played old school (not old at the time) baseball. I had some close friends, but not a ton of them. I flew under the radar for most of my days in school.

When I got to high school, it was pretty much the same thing. Most people will say it's because my mom never gave me a chance to speak, because she did it so much (with gusts of up to 150 words per minute!) But, I knew a little better. I was just quiet.

I played golf, I reffed basketball and I didn't go out of Saturday nights because I wanted to watch Saturday Night Live. That was my fun.

And it was okay.

When I got to college, my freshman year roommate (who is now one of my great friends), talked less than I did. I realized that one of us had to talk, so it began... And now I speak for a living. Go figure.

From teaching for the past 13 years, I've run across a huge variety of kids. There are quiet kids and loud kids, athletes and non athletes, smart kids and happy kids and competitive kids. You name it, I've seen it.

The cool thing about all these kids is that it's all okay.

They are all kids who just want to be happy.

So no matter what kid comes through my camps, I try to make them happy.

It's kind of the same way I raise my kids. I get the question all the time....are they going to play golf? My response is always the same. "If they want to."

Because I don't care if my kids are good at golf or even play golf. I want them to be happy, kind kids. That's it. If Ethan wants to be a ballerina and Ella wants to be a ninja, that's cool with me. I just hope I have a happy ballerina and a kind ninja.

If you come to my golf camps, classes, events, or just see me at the range, I teach some pretty simple concepts. Be kind. Use your manners. Have fun. Do the right thing. The list goes on.

So as the first day, first week, and first month of school gets started, I want to address the kids in my classes, the kids who have taken them from me before, and the kids who will eventually take classes from me. What I teach during golf lessons is the same thing that will help you at school. I will welcome you with open arms when you take lessons from me. And, I'd rather have you be a great person than a great golfer.

Dear Students:

As you start this school year, I want you to remember a few things.

You are awesome. You are smart. You are fun.

You'll get nervous. You'll get tired. You'll do boring things in class. You'll do super fun things too. You'll meet new friends. You'll have teachers you like a lot and some you only like a little. You'll have easy work and tough work.

And it's all okay.

Lots of things happen at school. Some you'll like and some you won't. But through everything that happens...Be the nice kid.

When you see that kid in class that doesn't seem to have any friends...go talk with him. When you see that kid who dropped her books...go help her pick them up. When your teacher asks a question that you know...answer it. When your friends are doing something you know is wrong...walk away.

Be the nice kid.

I've taught golf to thousands of kids over the years and my goal is not to turn them into professional golfers. My goal is to help them become nice kids.

Go to school every day and see if you can make someone else in your class smile. Make someone else laugh. Make someone else feel good.

Be the nice kid.

It's easy to go along with the crowd and make fun of the kids who seem a little different. Guess what?..everyone is different. Everyone has their thing. Some kids are smarter than you, some kids have cooler clothes than you, some kids are better at sports than you. It doesn't matter...you have your thing too. Be the kid who can get along. The kid that is generous. The kid that is happy for other people. The kid that does the right thing. The kid that tries his best.

Be the nice kid.

If you have homework, do it. If you have a test, study for it. If you have a project, finish it.

Most of all, when your parents ask you to do something, listen to them. They aren't here to guide you in the wrong direction. They support you and love you. They are the ones that will help you the most along the way. Sure, there will be times when you think they are crazy and have no idea what they are talking about. Just trust them. They are here for YOU. Just like you treat your classmates at school, be nice to your parents.

Have fun at school, do what you're supposed to do, and be the nice kid.

I'll see you on the golf course soon.

Thanks,
Bryan

I always liked school.

Mostly because of my mom.

See, mom knew school was important.

It was important to try your best (whatever your best may be).

It was important to be with friends.

It was important to listen and share and gain confidence and smile.

So, every morning, my mom would get up with us, and make us breakfast. She'd cut our toast into squares. She'd pack our lunch (except for Italian Dunker day), and she'd watch us go out to the bus.

My mom never swore. Ever. And there was one particular word, she would make sure she'd never say.

Job.

She'd just spell it.... J-O-B.

The day before I was born, May 10, 1978 was my mom's last day "working" a "real J-O-B." She worked at a bank.

But really, her kids (me and my bro) were her job. (Don't worry moms who are reading this...your kids may not tell you that you're doing awesome, but you are, and they'll tell you someday)

So, after she watched us walk out to the bus, she started her day.

And most of her day consisted of being at our school.

I'm not sure if there is some sort of award for being a Catholic School volunteer (yep, guilty (key word for a Catholic, huh?) as charged, I was a Catholic School kid), but my mom surely would have won it year after year.

She was the cafeteria mom, nurse mom, church mom, classroom mom....and just about any other "mom" title you can think of.

But above all else, my mom was the mom that you were never embarrassed about.

I loved her. And every kid in my class loved her.

She always smiled. She addressed everyone by name. She asked questions. And she was genuinely interested in whomever she was talking to.

And the kids really loved her on my birthday.

Back in the day, when every kid wasn't allergic to every thing out there, we could bring treats for our birthdays.

I never brought a treat.

My mom did.

From first grade all the way up to 8th grade, my mom brought my birthday treat.

Even though I was quiet, my mom was good at making me feel happy.

Late in the day, she'd pop by my classroom with a paper bag from Country Store (remember Country Store?) or Red Owl (remember Red Owl?) or SuperValu or Rainbow or whatever hadn't gone out of business yet.

And she had the ultimate birthday treat.

Orange pushups.

Every year, it was orange pushups.

On the day of my birthday, every kid in my class would be so excited to see my mom, that it was hard to concentrate.

I actually think my birthday could have been the cause of ADD back in the late 80's.

They knew that sometime during the day, Mrs. Skavnak would pop into the classroom with a bag full of orange pushups.

And the place would erupt.

Kids would clap, yell, laugh, and smile.

We'd eat our orange pushups, talk with my mom, thank her, and then say goodbye.

And the best part of all...

When I jumped off that bus, and walked back to my house, mom was waiting inside with a giant smile on her face.

Throughout the years, when I've turned from orange push-up kid to orange push-up dad, I've realized one giant thing.

Kids remember the little things.

We don't remember winning scores. We remember mom cheering us on.

We don't remember toys. We remember dad tucking us in at night.

We don't remember gifts. We remember smiles. And hugs. And orange push-ups.

Only time matters.

And how we spend it matters more.

Talk soon,
Bryan

My students and I are like a family.

We support each other, we rag on each other, and we go to Buffalo Wild Wings together.

This isn't a Wild Wings story, but it's just as good.....

Every Friday, a group of students and I go play golf at a local course. These kids have been with me for a long time now...6, 8, 10 years. I've seen them grow from curious little kids to annoying middle schoolers, back to a whole variety of different high schoolers.

They all have their own quirks. Some are outgoing. Some are quiet. Some tell stories. Some are always on their phone. Some are funny. Some try to be funny. Some are confident. Some need that boost.

But the best part is that it's all okay. Everybody brings something to the table. And even though they may not be best friends outside of our class, on golf day, on our day, they get along and have fun together.

On this particular Friday, we were on the 4th tee box of a local executive course. I was with a couple quiet kids and a couple talkers. The quiet kids loved paintball and hockey, respectively. The talkers... they were brothers, they were funny, and they loved Arizona teas.

As one of the talkers was getting ready to tee off, he started telling us a story.....

"Before the football game last week, me and my buddy went to the store to grab something to drink. I found my favorite Asia Plum Green Tea with Ginseng and Plum Juice (Side note: I really don't remember what he said, but it was something with a lot of ingredients). You can't find that anywhere.

Now get this. We got to the entrance and Admin was confiscating everything that people brought in. They were trying to cut down on drinking, I get it. But they took my tea. And it wasn't even opened. What could I put into an unopened can of tea? It sucked. It was my favorite kind.

They told me I could come find them after the game and they'd give it back to me.

So after the game I went and looked for someone from Admin, but couldn't find anyone. They were gone. They probably drank my tea.

On Monday, I went to school and I was still mad at that whole thing. So, I went to Admin and asked for the lady who took my tea. She told me she didn't have it. And that was it.

Stupid Admin. I can't believe they took my favorite tea and never gave it back."

The talker lined up his shot and got ready to hit.

You could tell he didn't want to let the tea thing go. He was visibly upset about the whole thing.

And if I know anything about golf, tension and good golf shots don't exactly mix.

Tight hands, overthinking, worrying. They all happen when you are tense. And no good comes from it.

He took a swing, his tee flipped in the air, and his ball went sailing...... into the woods.

He didn't say a word. He just paced around as if he was looking for something.

Then we realized he was.

"What are you looking for?" said his brother.

"My tee"

Then no sound for what felt like a full minute.

Until the quiet kid chimed in.

"Maybe Admin took it."

Talk soon,
Bryan

We are all scared.

We are scared of failing.  We are scared of rejection.  We are scared of looking stupid.  But, in reality, we are just really bad at math.

I have many people that have helped me out in various parts of my life.  One of those people is a guy named Brendon.  He speaks all over the world.  He trains some of the biggest companies.  And he told a story once that completely changed how I view things.  Straight up, changed my life. 

It was a story about the reality of rejection.  And how we are all scared to be rejected.

It went like this....

Think for a minute about a time in your life when you felt that someone rejected you.  A time where it really hit home, it really hurt.  It put a dent in you.  It affected how you did things.  It could be a break up.  It could be an idea that wasn't taken.  It could be a job.  It could someone just being unkind to you. 

Would you say this has happened to you once in your life?

Of course.  Most people have had a person in their lives that have rejected them and hurt them.

Let's think about it again.  Has this happened to you more than once?  Someone that has really hurt you.  Someone that doesn't want you, that doesn't like what you do.   Someone that has hurt the core of who you are.  Someone who has told you you're not good enough.  Not smart enough.  Not ready enough.

Can you think of three people in your life that have rejected you?

Sure.  It might be a struggle, but yes, you can probably think of three people.

So, again.  Think about it.  Have you been rejected by five people that have really hurt how you feel about yourself and your identity?

Possibly.

Have you been rejected by 7 people?

Maybe.

How about 10 people?

Less likely.

20 people?

Probably not.

Brendon has asked this question all over the world.  The average in his seminars is about 7 people.  So, in each of our lives, there have been about 7 people that don't like us or what we do.  7 people who have rejected us.

Now think about this.

Have you had people in your life that you've met, interacted with, spent time with, networked with, and it's seemed to go pretty well? 

Can you think of 20 people?

Can you think of 50 people?

Have you met people in your life that are fine with what you're doing?  That have been cool with you. 

In your whole life, have you met 200 people like that?

500 people?

1,000 people?

If you really sit back and think about it, you could come up with a pretty big list of people that you've met with, spent time with, talked with...and it went just fine. 

So, we've been rejected 7 times in our life.  And we have met 1,000 people that are cool with us.

Yet, we make a crucial mistake.

We let those 7 people run our lives.  We think about the rejection that may happen.  We don't take risks.  We don't put ourselves out there.  We don't try something we want to do.

Why?

Because we're scared of 7 people. 

7 people!!

We're letting 7 people dictate what we should do!!

We're worried about what 7 people think?  We're not being ourselves, following our dreams, doing something that makes us happy because of 7 people?

7 people or 1,000 people.

Rejection rarely happens.  We just suck at math.

We've got 1,000 people in our corner who love us.  We've got 1,000 people who support us.  And 7 people who judge us.

Screw the 7.  Let's make the 1,000 people happy. 

Think about if you were driving to work and just tried to avoid all the potholes.  You'd be swerving all over.  You'd be off the road.  

Think about if you got up to a tee box on the golf course and instead of trying to hit it down the fairway, you just tried NOT to hit it in the water.  

When I walk up the stairs, I don't try NOT to trip.  I just walk.

We think rejection happens all the time.  But the reality is, rejection rarely happens.  

Our 1,000 supporters could storm those 7.  They would crush those 7. 

You have 1,000.  I have 1,000.  We have people that love us.  We have people that care about us.  We have people that are happy to know us.

Don't live your life for the 7.  Live your life for the 1,000.

And most of all, live your life for yourself.

Decide what to be and go be it.

Go be happy.

Thanks,
Bryan

I am not a fan of snow.

It makes driving difficult, messes up the sidewalks, and makes my socks all wet.

Sure, it looks pretty when it shines in the sun, but so does Kristen Bell, and I don't see her chilling in my front yard all winter.

But snow does make me remember.

Especially to the winter of 2005.

I got an email. An email from Rolling Stone magazine.

I had subscribed to this magazine since I was in high school, so for more than 10 years at $25 a year, I had been up to date on all things music.

This email was an offer for a lifetime subscription.

Cool.

After I clicked on the link, I realized that this lifetime subscription was only $100.

$100 for the rest of my life. No strings attached. (I combed it through...there really were no strings).

So, I took my St. John's math and my calculator and quickly discovered that normally I would spend $100 in 4 years. I consulted my accountant, ran an actuarial analysis, and signed up.

The next month when the Rolling Stone magazine came in the mail, I happened to glance at the address label.

Side note: Did you know that on magazine subscription address labels, there's a line with the expiration date of your subscription?
When I was checking the label, I noticed that my expiration date said, "Sep55."

Huh?

I had just signed up for a lifetime subscription. Why would there be an expiration date?

I'm a reasonable dude, so a few thoughts came to my head...

Maybe they just added 50 years to my subscription to make it easy on their computer system? Nope. It was 49 years and 8 months.

Maybe that's the date where all paper magazines are required to go digital? Thanks Obama.

Maybe Rolling Stone knows when I'm going to die?

Ooohhh (insert creepy music).

But then I came to my senses and realized that's dumb. Nobody knows when their time is up.

Heck, I could walk outside tomorrow and get hit by a Nickelback tour bus. (The coroner would not want to look at that photograph).

So, I really started thinking...

Who is driving that tour bus, me or fear?

Am I going to let fear knock me down?

Or am I going to take control, (drop Nickelback off at the closest rest stop), and create my own tour?

I might have until September 2055.

But what if I don't?
Sometimes we end up waiting our whole lives for something to be perfect before we take that big step. The perfect opportunity, the perfect business plan, the perfect opening line.

If we wait until perfect, then we just push our happiness further down the road.

We can't control the outcome, but we can control the probability.

So, we better do something now.

We better make our opportunity now.

We better care more now.

We better love more now.

We better appreciate more now.

And we better give and live more. Now.

You want a better job? You want a better golf game? You want a better relationship? You want a better life?

Refuse to wait. Refuse to listen to critics. Refuse to let fear stop you.

It's time you understand that you are worth it. You are significant. You matter.

There are no little people.

Do something now. And think big.

We all have something we want.

Go get it.

Happy Golf Life Starts Here.

Talk soon,
Bryan

My best teacher was my mom.

She taught me about manners, and generosity, and treating others kindly. She taught me how to play 500 (she was a rockstar at that game), how to make ice cream pie, and how to do laundry. She taught me how to pray, how to talk to others, and how to sing incorrect song lyrics. Seriously, I still don’t know what a heebeejeebee is.

She taught me it’s okay to laugh and it’s okay to cry.

But the greatest gift my mom every gave me was perspective.

It was the realization that you can be happy if you choose to be happy. It was the fact that no matter how bad you have it, someone else has it worse. It was not knowing all the answers, but always looking for ways to make things better. It was perpetual positivity.

There is no glass half empty or glass half full. There is just a glass, and you put what you want into it.

My mom was happy until the end. She never complained, never wondered why this happened to her, and through it all worried about how we were doing.

It takes a special person to stay positive through tough times. Although it takes a very special person to talk to a wrong number for 20 minutes (she had done that before too!).

Here's my favorite mom story ever...

It was just between us two and I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. To my friends, it’s simply known as Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip.

We were shopping at a local shopping mall in the winter. We parked near Sears and had to walk through it to get to the mall. On the way out, I saw someone who worked there that I knew, and didn’t feel like talking to at the time. I looked at my mom and said, “Okay, how are we going to do this?” Without hesitation, my mom said, “We need code words.” I almost lost it right there.

My mom saying, “we need code words” was the equivalent to me saying, “No thanks, I don’t want any more cake.” You never saw it coming.

So we came up with a plan.

I was going to weave through the store, Frogger-style, with my mom shouting “code words” when I should go left or right. In retrospect, I could have taken a different door out, but this was way more fun.

“Okay mom, what are the code words?”

“If you should go left, I’ll say chocolate chip.

“And what if I need to go right?”

“Peanut butter.”

So, the plan began.

I started walking through an aisle and all of a sudden heard my mom screaming, “Peanut butter!, Peanut butter!, Peanut butter!”

I went to the right and walked DIRECTLY in front of the person I did not want to talk to.

But I was okay, because he never saw me. He was too busy staring at this crazy woman yelling “Peanut butter” in the middle of Sears.

We got to the exit and we both stopped. We were laughing hysterically at this point. My mom looked at me and said, “Where were you going? I said peanut butter and you went chocolate chip.”

“No. Peanut butter is right, chocolate chip is left.”

By this time, people were staring at us because I think we were hyperventilating near the doors.

We walked out to the parking lot and I started going the wrong way. My mom looked at me and deadpanned, “Hey BR, the car is to the peanut butter.”

Until the very end, my mom still thought peanut butter was to the left.

It’s okay to laugh and it’s okay to cry.

I hope you find your Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip.

And remember, perspective is everything.

Thanks Mom.

Talk soon,
Bryan

My 6 year old is in a rut.

He's in the perfectionist stage of his life.

He's never wrong. He never loses. He never screws up.

We used to joke that my mom should run for mayor of her city. 
 
Not because she knew anything about politics or wanted to be in the public eye, but because she knew everyone.
 
She had this ability to talk to her friends on the phone for hours, go play cards and talk some more, then come home and talk with us. 
 
She's still the only person I know who could strike up a conversation with a stranger in the grocery store, and figure out that she knew this person's uncle's landlord's brother's cousin's groomsman. 
 
At her funeral, people showed up from all over.  They traveled from different cities, they took off work, and they showed support.  Mostly because it's the same thing she would have done.  (Except for the work part...she "retired" when I was born)
 
The church told us it was the biggest funeral they ever had.  People were spilling out of the gathering space and there were enough bars and desserts (mom's favorite) for entire cities.
 
She was a star at forming relationships; relationships that really mattered.  Where you could talk to people about anything and have a genuine connection.
 
How was this possible?  How did my mom have so many friends, so many acquaintances, and so many people who wanted to be around her?
 
She didn't have a game plan.  It was her personality to be kind and generous.  She interacted in a way that always showed a smile.   
 
Because I was the quiet kid, I wasn't good at forming bonds like she was.  Really nobody was.
 
But I watched to see what she did.
 
I wanted to know what she did differently to attract such a wide array of good people.

What I noticed was what she did wasn't out of the ordinary.  Yes, she was special, but she did a bunch of things that could be replicated by anyone.  It's just that most people wouldn't take the time to do these things.

So, let's start now.

Her secret was that she worked at it every day, so it became natural.  It became part of who she was.

Below are the 5 things that she would do.  If you want to attract good people to you, take these to heart.

These are the Fortunate 5.

Give - Give of your time.  Give help.  Give attention.  Give a compliment.  Give advice.  Give a gift.  Give affection.  Give something that the other person needs to feel happier.  Simple as that.  Give what you have to other people.  This is the first key to any relationship.  Even if you don’t do anything else on this list, do this one.  Give.
 
Ask - Ask questions.  But ask personal questions.  Ask about the other person's interests.  Ask about feelings, and highs and lows.  Ask about dreams and hopes.  Ask things that others wouldn't.
 
Listen - Really listen.  Be there to listen whenever it's needed.  Listen for details or hints or small things.  The more you listen, the more you're able to ask.
 
Laugh - Find the humor in every situation.  Smile and laugh...but really mean it.
 
Play - Make things social.  Go out for breakfast or lunch.  Join leagues.  Take up new things.  Go to events.  Play cards.  Play games.  Have an avenue to constantly get together...card club, church group, school group. 

Golf is a perfect avenue for forming real, meaningful relationships.  You are able to give time to another person, ask questions, listen intently, and laugh at bad shots...all while playing a game.

Golf isn't "too embarrassing" or "too hard" or "too intimidating" when you're with friends.

Life is the same way.

Talk soon,
Bryan

I love Legos.

Pure and simple.  I love them.

When I was a kid, I played with Legos every day.  I built spaceships and police stations and towns and castles.  There was the pirate captain, the firefighter, the mechanic, and every other occupation you could think of.  Every figure had the same smiling, yellow face, but different accessories.  And they were all awesome.

Now I get to enjoy Legos with my kids.  The pieces are a little different.  The construction is a little more sophisticated.  And the figures even have different expressions on their faces now.

But here is the beauty of Legos.

There are rules.  And there are no rules.

Every Lego box comes with a set of instructions.  Each piece has its own designated spot.  And when you’re finished, your architectural achievement looks exactly like it does on the box.

What happens after?

A few days later, pieces may have fallen off.  Or you've gotten just a bit bored of your creation, so you want to make something else.

And you do.

But this time, you decide to throw out the instructions and build something on your own with those same pieces.  Sure, you have guidelines, but you're using your imagination to create something of your own; something that makes you happy; something you're proud of.  Something awesome.

That's golf.

There are a set of guidelines.  There is a general structure of how golf should be played.  But there are also many pieces that you can grab from golf and make them your own.  You can turn it into something that makes you happy.

Just because something comes with a set of instructions, doesn't mean it's the only way to do it.

I want you to have the Lego Mentality when you play golf.

Realize that there are people that will always play by every rule.  They will follow the scientific approaches to the swing.  They will believe that everything has to be in its proper place.

But that's okay.  Good people can disagree.

Just remember that there are other ways to play.  There are a set of instructions, but multiple uses for those instructions.  

There is possibility.

Take what you know about golf, and Lego of it (worst pun I'll ever make, guaranteed).

I give you permission to make golf your own.  Build a foundation on what makes you happy.

Happy golf starts here.

Welcome to New York is a great song.

Yes, I'm a 37 year old guy who loves Taylor Swift.

Don't worry, my wife knows.

Actually she encourages it.

In my eyes, T Swift is genuine, kind, and a master marketer. She's talented, intelligent, and knows how to attract people to her. And this love she shows to people leads to many cool things.

One of these people that's been attracted to her music is Ryan Adams.
If you don't know Ryan Adams, he's an indie rock stud. Good music, better lyrics, and a knack for emotion. (Not Bryan Adams...he's the Everything I do, I do it for you guy....but not the worst music to come out of Canada. That rhymes with Picklepack)

Taylor Swift put out an awesomely awesome album called 1989. Every song is good. Every one. (iTunes kids....listen to the whole album, not just some select songs. It's worth it).

Her buddy Ryan Adams liked the album so much that he called up T Swift and asked if he could record all her songs from the album...and then put out his own 1989. Same album, same songs, different take on the music.

He didn't want to copy her. He just wanted to give it his own style.

She said sure, that's awesome, I wish you would.

And now, we have 2 awesomely awesome 1989s.

2 takes on the same thing. 2 different perspectives. 2 albums that we will listen to. And no bad blood between Taylor and Ryan.

Why?

Because we crave perspective.
We don't read just one author. We don't watch just one TV show. We don't eat just one kind of food.

We want perspective.

And your perspective matters too.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Never in my wildest dreams do I think people want to hear what I think.

I know. I had the same feeling.

But here's the truth...

Your voice matters.

Your experience matters.

You matter.

Don't worry about other people. Don't worry what they think of you.

Look at things through your lens.

Because then magic happens. In golf and in life.

When you rip your ball by some trees, your perspective helps. And that's how you'll get the ball out of the woods.

When you're too scared to talk to a girl, your perspective helps. And that's how you get the girl.

When you're worried about failure, your perspective helps. And you'll be able to take things in stride, learn from mistakes, and just shake it off.

You matter.

From this day forward, think of it as a clean slate. A blank space. A new beginning.

I know places like that can be scary. That out of the comfort zone place. But it's worth it.

If all you had to do was stay with the same old safe routine, you'd probably never make a move. But I encourage you to live with a newfound confidence that you are as important as anyone else.

Don't downplay your voice and your perspective.

You matter.

Create your own happiness.

Create your own 1989.

Welcome to Happy.

Talk soon,
Bryan

P.S. Here's the tracklist for Taylor Swift's (and Ryan Adams') 1989: Welcome to New York, Blank Space, Style, Out Of The Woods, All You Had To Do Was Stay, Shake It Off, I Wish You Would, Bad Blood, Wildest Dreams, How You Get The Girl, This Love, I Know Places, Clean. Now go re-read the story and find them all.

Before you go to bed tonight, do The Trifecta for yourself. (unless you hate being happy)

Here's the story...

In our household of golf pros and weirdos, we're a little different.

Especially at story time.

When my kids go to bed, sometimes we read a book. Sometimes I make up a story. (My favorite is Kermit the Hermit and his magical bus... yeah it's trippy).

And sometimes it's "Dad, can you tell me a story when you were little?"

Or... "a story when you were little and at school."

Or... "a story when you were little and at school and that's scary."

And even, "a story when you were little and at school and that's scary...and has an owl."

I don't know any stories with owls.

But it gave me an idea. So we switched up story time.

Now, whenever the kids want a story "when I was little", they have to choose The Trifecta. 3 words or phrases. Basically an outline of a story.

From those 3 things, I have to remember something that happened when I was younger and tell the story of that event.

It's good practice for me remembering stuff that happened, plus my kids get to hear a different story every night.

And on one particular night, my kids helped me find a giant secret to happiness.

We were in my son's room and ready for a story.

He quickly got under his covers and said, "Dad, let's play The Trifecta."

Okay, hit me.

"When you were little" (this was almost always a given)
"Basketball"
"Mean to you"

Usually when he'd give me The Trifecta, I'd have a story in about 10 seconds.

But I thought and thought and thought, and couldn't connect those 3 things.

There was just nothing there.

So, I asked him to try again.

This time...
"Eating food"
"Outside"
"Mean to you"

30 seconds, 45 seconds, a minute. I still had nothing.

But then, I figured out why I was getting stumped.

It wasn't the 8th grade basketball concussion. It wasn't my six degrees of separation superpower fading away. It wasn't even my mind wandering to Wild Wings and gummy bears.

It was this.

I could not think of a single time when someone was mean to me.

I just couldn't do it.

Have people been mean to me in the past? Of course. I'm sure it's happened a lot.

But I couldn't recall a time.

And right there sitting on Ethan's bed, I had the revelation.

There's one huge reason that I'm consistently happy.

I choose not to remember people that have been mean to me.

Yes, I choose.

I'm happy because I focus on the people in my life that matter. The people that have my back. The people I care about.

I don't concern myself with people that don't like me, don't like what I do, don't care about me. Those people and those times, they clear out of my head quickly.

Remember this:

Not everyone will like you. Not everyone will care about you. Not everyone will be nice to you.

And it's okay.

Make your choice.

Stay away from the people that are mean to you. And forget the times they are.

Be happy with the people that matter.

"When you were little"
"Laughing"
"Friends"

Go.

Talk soon,
Bryan

Back when I was in college, I played golf with my dad's work league. Each summer we played a few partner events. During one event I played with a guy that I'll call Dan (cause that's his name).

The format of this tournament was 6-6-6, which meant that the first 6 holes were alternate shot, the next 6 were best ball, and the next 6 were scramble.

Dan was one of the worst players in the league, but he was a blast to be around. He'd crack jokes and not take it too seriously. And if his ball ever got up in the air, then it was a pretty good shot. But this time was different because he was talking smack to the other guys in the league saying that he was going to win.

We made bogey on our first hole of alternate shot. Not too bad considering the format and the skill level. On the second hole, I hit the drive, he topped the second shot, and then I stuck one about 2 feet away for par.

Dan walked up to the green, laughed, and said, "I hope I don't miss this one. Ha."

He missed.

Now he was something that rhymes with missed.

Even though he rarely showed it, his blood was boiling from missing a 2 foot putt, so he stormed to his cart, and drove to the 3rd tee.

As he reached the tee box, he quickly jumped out of the cart, grabbed his driver, teed up his ball and started his swing.

Before we could say, "No, wait," he absolutely smashed the ball.

Of all the years I had played with him, I had never seen a better drive come off his club. It was a beauty. He stood there with a big smile on his face.

We stood there with our jaws on the ground.

Because Dan had just ripped a straight, high shot 200 yards... dead down the wrong fairway in the opposite direction.

We didn't know what to say. It was so pretty. It was so perfect. And it was nowhere near the hole.

And now the 180 yard par 3 turned into a 380 yard monster.

Dan was way more "rhymes with missed" now.

I walked over to the ball and checked out what I had.

I had just over 380 yards to a tight pin location with wetlands all around.

I had two options.

Option 1 - I could try to blast a shot as far as I've ever hit a fairway wood, and land it in a 20 yard by 20 yard grass patch, so he'd have a decent shot at the green. If I miss in any direction or don't catch it flush, I'm in the water. Or.....

Option 2 - I could lay up by hitting the same 200 yard shot back to where we started, so my partner, Mr. Wrong Way (yeah, that nickname stuck in about 10 seconds), could attempt to hit the next shot...which was all over water.

I put my trust in Dan and laid up.

Now 2 shots later, he was in the same position he started the hole. He had a fairway wood in hand. 180 yards. No tee. All over water. In his mind, this was nearly impossible. Not only did he lack confidence in his golf game, but I'm not sure if he ever hit a ball that far in the air without a tee.

He looked at me, laughed and swung.

And hit it perfectly.

For the second time from the same spot, the ball flew high and straight. Only this time it traveled in the right direction. It landed a foot from the pin and trickled on to the fringe.

The shot from his club was awesome.

The smile from his face was better.

Because he just realized he could do something he thought he had no chance of doing.

And he had the right direction.

I bumped the chip next to the hole. He made a one-footer. And we escaped with a 5.

An awesome 5.

So what's the point here?

Life mimics golf.

There's frustration and redemption. There's happiness and anger. There's self-limiting beliefs that prevent us from being great. There's freedom breaking through those beliefs.

And there's times where we (literally) need to be pointed in the right direction.

My hope for you is that these stories I share point you in the right direction.

I hope they serve as motivation and inspiration to improve upon something in your life. And smash your self-limiting beliefs.

I hope they help you understand that you have choices. If you want something different, then it's time to start creating something different.

I hope you're able to clear your clouds, find your freedom, and realize that you're closer than you think.

Happiness is out there.

Which direction will you go?

Talk soon,
Bryan