Bergeron reflects on US Amateur
As far back as I can remember I always loved playing
golf. I loved everything about it, practicing, playing,
analyzing the swings of the professionals and studying
the courses. My Dad and I would compile lists of courses
that we would love to play on our dream vacation we
assumed we would never be able to take.
We would talk about playing Whistling Straits, Bandon
Dunes, Torrey Pines but number one on every list we
made was Pebble Beach. From what I saw in pictures
and TV, there was something magical about the place.
The cliffs, the ocean, the beauty, the history, it was the
ultimate.
When I was fortunate enough to qualify for the 2018
US Open at Shinnecock Hills, I was obviously very
excited. Playing in the US Open was one of my goals,
and it was a great experience. But what really made
me smile was knowing that I was now in the 2018 US
Amateur at Pebble Beach. The dream vacation was no
longer a dream.
As with lots of things in life, things don’t always go as
planned. When we finally arrived at Pebble Beach, our
luggage, including my golf clubs, was missing. While the
airline searched to locate and reunite me with my clubs,
there was no practicing. The only thing I could do was
walk the course.
I was initially worried and stressed, but that all went
away walking up the fourth fairway when I got my first
view of the ocean and Arrowhead Point in the distance.
Most things in life are hyped to absurd levels, and
when you experience them for yourself, there is a little
disappointment. They don’t live up to the hype.
That was not the case here. It exceeded my expectations;
I was blown away. I feel God spent a little extra time
creating this place. The colors are brighter, the breeze is
cooler and fresher, the feel of the grass beneath your feet
is bouncier. I knew at that point that my finish in the US
Am was irrelevant, I was going to enjoy my time there.
After two shaky days of stroke play, I wasn’t sure if my
score would be enough to get to match play. My score
of +4 was the cut line for most of the afternoon but it
switched to +3 later in the day. As we sat in our hotel
room overlooking Spanish Bay, we clicked the refresh
button over and over to get the latest updates while we
listened to the nightly bag piper put the course to sleep.
Suddenly things changed, +4 was now the number
to get into a massive 24-man playoff for one spot. How
this happened, I’m not sure. Other people’s misfortune
became my opportunity.
That night, as I settled into bed, my thoughts were
positive. There’s no reason why I can’t be the one. The
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