The Best Thing First Tee Is Teaching Kids Has Nothing to Do With Golf

Nora at Canal Shores, one of NewClub’s favorite haunts, and the current Northside home of First Tee Chicago.

There’s a weird thing that happens when you love golf as much as I do.

You want your kids to love it too.

Not because you need them to become golfers. And honestly, not even because you care if they ever get “good” (we all stink!). You just know what the game has given you. The challenge. The life lessons. The friendships and perspective.

It’s the strange way that my path in golf has always mirrored my path in life. It’s taught me things about myself when I would least expect it, and frankly, when I needed it the most.

But if you’re not careful, your own love and reverence for the game can start to feel like pressure and expectations on those around you.

Courage

Our daughter Nora is five, and before her first session with our local First Tee Chapter in Akron, she was nervous. Like… REALLY nervous. She didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to participate. Didn’t want to leave dad’s side.

As most millennial parents have been accustomed, her mom and dad are no strangers to anxiety.

And honestly, it probably didn’t help that golf is such a big part of our lives. I think she felt that. Was this what she wanted to do? Or was this what Dad wanted her to do? Kids pick up on so much more than we realize.

When we finally got there, she clung to me, hiding. Wouldn’t go out with the group. And the coaches handled it perfectly. No added pressure. No “come on, just try it.” No, making it weird.

Coach Roland — who the kids affectionately call “Coach Rolly Polly,” and who some children genuinely believe is 175 years old thanks to the playful remarks of Coach Clark — just smiled and said something to the effect:

The 5–6-year-olds of First Tee Greater Akron, ready to "Charge The Battery." at Mud Run Golf Course with Coach George, Matty, and Roland.

“You don’t want to try? That’s cool. I never wanted to try Brussels sprouts when I was your age. Want to come watch the other kids eat Brussels sprouts? I mean, roll some putts?”

Immediately, she giggled. The tension disappeared. The pressure was lifting off. They made it ok to be an observer.

So Nora stood next to me and watched.

Kid after kid rolled putts trying to get their “toppings” (different colored golf balls) onto their “pizza” (inside a flat hoola hoop circle). Nobody made it. Every single kid missed. Coaches cheered as every ball rolled by.

Then she looked up at me and quietly said:

“Can I try?”

I told her to ask Coach Roland.

She walked out there sheepishly, sized up the putt, and missed it, too.

Just like everybody else.

But you could literally see something click for her.

“Oh… missing is part of this.”

That first hurdle is massive for kids. Honestly, for adults too. Realizing it’s okay to fail. That everybody fails. Constantly. Especially in golf. Especially in life.

And somehow this tiny little putting game taught her something a lot of grown adults still struggle with: the outcome isn’t really the point. You still step up. You still try. You still give it a shot.

Collaboration

A couple of weeks in, the next thing that stood out to me was how much the program emphasizes collaboration and teamwork.

Instead of Earl-Woods-ing the whole thing and turning kids into tiny ultra-competitors, they play games together. They make pizzas. Feed dinosaurs. Sink battleships. They celebrate each other constantly.

Coach Roland and other coaches at Mud Run keep the kids safe and swinging while their loyal “gallery” watches and tries to stay dry.

The coaches make the kids take turns — partly for safety, but also so they watch each other. Learn from each other. Encourage each other.

And honestly, I found myself thinking how much better we’d all probably be if we paid more attention to the people around us.

Who’s struggling.

Who’s improving.

Who needs encouragement.

Who’s excited.

We get so siloed as adults.

We turn everything into an individual pursuit or stack ranking.

Creativity

Then there’s the imagination required. This is where my little gal really comes alive.

The coaches are constantly using imagination. They’ll tell the kids to picture their hands like a bun holding a hot dog. Or imagine three scoops of ice cream sitting on their back heel after their follow-through.

It sounds silly, but it’s awesome. It works, and it makes learning some really hard concepts actually fun.

Every golfer knows that feeling — seeing a shot in your mind before it happens. The little chip that has to land just short of the ridge and trickle down exactly how you pictured it. The putt you see breaking before it does, and the drive that soars down the tracer you just visualized, soaring towards your tiny target in the distance.

That marriage of imagination and execution is pure joy.

It’s rarely perfect, but it’s your creation, from start to finish.

Common Ground

But honestly, more than anything, it’s the environment at First Tee Akron and Mud Run Municipal Golf Course that stands out most to me.

The coaches lead with positivity, patience, and care. They leave room for the kids to explore while still giving them enough structure to stay safe and keep moving.

The high school kids working in the shop are graduates of First Tee. They play on their own teams now, and they love asking Nora and her little sister about their favorite shots before ringing up a couple of cookies post-practice session.

PGA Jr. League teams are out on the course competing nearby.

Everywhere you look, there are older kids (parents are kids too!) showing younger kids what’s possible.

And the friendships these kids are building matter more than any golf lesson ever could.

Different schools.

Different backgrounds.

Different walks of life.

Just kids being around other kids, they normally might never meet.

That matters a great deal to me, and you can tell it matters to The First Tee.

Compassion

An early walk with a then eighteen-month-old Nora.

Leaving our last spring session at the first tee, it was pouring rain; Dad was carried away discussing a recent golf trip with some other parents and coaches (as one does!) when Nora noticed a grandma walking with her cane toward the parking lot, where her grandsons were waiting in the downpour by their car.

She tugged on my shirt until she finally got my attention and asked:

“Daddy… does she need our umbrella?”

”Who?”

” Her!” (pointing towards the parking lot)

Together, we walked that grandmother to her car.

That moment had nothing to do with golf.

But it also kind of had everything to do with it.

I truly don’t care if my little girl ever breaks par.

First tee isn’t about that, not primarily anyway.

They’re helping shape how kids move through the world.

And if golf can help us raise kinder, braver, more thoughtful kids?

That feels a lot more important to me than any scorecard.