Phil Tonseth ‘22
Production Editor
The solemnity of December 2nd was not lost on me. Working towards that moment since early August, I knew that my results that afternoon would be determinative of my future career success. The weight of the impending hours called for a stoic and subdued dress code, hence my all black attire and backwards cap. Knowing my walk through tangled problems with nary a clear solution would be treacherous, I donned memory soled shoes in an effort to placate my soon to be beleaguered feet.
Set for a shotgun start, I would not be eased into the problem set at hand. To be completed in an idyllic four hours, the examination did not begin with an easy lay-up, nor the ushering of me into a soft landing zone so I could feel a sense of comfort as soon as it began. Rather, the first problem seemed to map out a winding path towards the solution, but with traps along one edge and a forest of false outlets among the other. The choice of the path to reach the answer would be of my own, a multiple choice exam of sorts. However, the length I needed to cover was no chip shot, but rather an essay I would need to consistently iron my way through. After this first problem, I was discouraged. I had studied what I believed to be relevant material, practiced multiple different approaches prior to the exam, and felt assured I would be able to swing an answer that was up to par. Quickly I had to place that disappointment behind, many more problems awaited.
Slogging my way through the afternoon hours of the 2nd, my answers frequently did not muster up to par, but the sight of infrequent but majestic birdies harkened to a sense of hope that my game face may once return to finish strong. Striding confidently through the final problem, a long uphill with a view at the top, flush with Azalea trees, I believed I would come close to acing the final piece of the test. Inches away from completing the round, hovering near the mark to score a 90 and pass with flying colors, I failed to spot one last issue. I overestimated how much the curve would help my final push, and my answer rolled just short. Dejected, but undeterred.
There was no time to bemoan my poor performance nor blame it on the conditions, as three more tests awaited before I would cart myself home for Christmas. I spent the next two days taking different attempts at a range of problem sets, hoping to smooth out any hitches in my swing for the perfect score on the next test. The morning of the 5th dawned with beads of dew speckling the ground, a promising sign for a soft and gentle day ahead. Headed towards my next test, my driver eagerly indicated that I could trust in him to carry me far and quickly towards any solution. I knew I had already wedged myself into a dangerous trap though, as my confidence soared like an eagle before even beginning. This second test, while truncated in time, proved to be a much clearer line towards success. There was neither a wait nor a worry of anyone ahead of me, allowing me to press my luck and shoot for the soft landing zone that was the answer. Feeling more confident after completing my second trek, I knew that while I was halfway through my testing schedule, I was heading into my strongest stretch yet.
Pictured: Semi-accurate depiction of how hard I studied for 'finals' this past fall. Photo Courtesy of pinterest.com
Working through my two final tests, I had it rough. My attempts to cleanly strike a balance between power and poise in my shots missed the mark, showing there would be true social distancing between my goals and the ultimate score. Not one to rely on a handicap, I worked tirelessly, pulling all of the tricks out of my bag. I dressed in my Sunday best, sporting a red polo in the hopes to invoke the “Eye of the Tiger” and make an illustrious comeback from the ashes. Consistently scribbling and erasing, I could not get my scores to change at all. After the conclusion of my rounds, I settled for average, destined to ride the curve to mediocrity. Luckily, the clubhouse was selling beer for half price, so I eagerly entered and worked to forget about my four golf rounds those past two weeks. As for finals? I’ll use my mulligan and try again in the spring.
For those questioning why one would dedicate so much time to golf, to only have their handicap rise and their GPA lower, I bow to the wisdom of my boi Antonin as he once opined “I am sure that the Framers of the Constitution, . . ., fully expected that sooner or later the paths of golf and government, the law and the links, would once again cross.”[1]
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pjt5hm@virginia.edu
[1] PGA Tour, Inc. v. Martin, 532 U.S. 661, 121 S. Ct. 1879 (2001). J. Scalia, Dissenting.