Camilo Villegas: The light and the dark

Editor's Note: The full story told by Camilo Villegas was originally published on The Players’ Tribune.

If you drive east out of Medellín, over the hills and out of the valley, you’ll find my Disneyland.

When I was little, there was no better place on earth than Club Campestre. It was one of two private golf clubs in the area, and my dad was a member there. I want to tell you about this place, because all of it — its beauty, its light, its joy — it’s in me. It always will be. I have these vivid memories of playing golf, soccer, tennis. Of swimming, running, laughing — just living, really, under the Colombian sun. There was water skiing, and horses to ride. There were endless things to do. It was a magical place. And on Saturdays and Sundays, my dad would go play with his friends. He’d hand me his 2-iron (which he couldn’t hit anyway) and let me carry it around the course behind him. I wasn’t even old enough to have the strength to swing it. But I took it everywhere with me those weekends. Through the trees, into the bunkers, back into the fairway. I’d watch him and his friends hit balls that seemed like they landed miles away. And before I ever swung a club, I fell in love with golf.

I’m not that boy anymore. I’ve grown up, and I’ve felt all the wonderfulness of life, and all of its darkness, too. But my love for golf never wavered. It’s been there for as long as I can remember. And perhaps you remember me, or you can picture me way back in your head. I’m probably stretched out, a few inches above a green, reading a putt. If you do, thank you. I felt your love back then. And if you don’t, that’s O.K. I’d like to tell you a little about me, and about golf, and about why it matters so much.

To read the rest of Villegas' story click here.