Are you feeling doubtful about golf? The US Adaptive Open will restore your faith

ROCKVILLE, Md. — When was the last time? he believed in golf?

I don't mean it he was happy it. Golf, like dinner and cold beer, is good even when it's bad. I mean he believed in it. In what it stands for. In its concepts and principles. Not only in what is but also in what should be.

If you'd like to believe in golf, I know the place. The practice range Monday morning at Woodmont Country Club here at the US Adaptive Open, where about half of the field of 96 golfers, mostly novices, prepared for the opening round of golf's biggest handicap event.

Players come from all over the world, and for all kinds of reasons, but money is not one of them. The Adaptive Open has no purse or fees, and operates at a substantial loss to the governing body that runs it, the USGA. In a refreshing version of the professional golf climate, everyone at the Adaptive Open loses money, and no one feels bad about it.

That's because of who's on the tea sheet.

Some players are missing body parts, maybe because they were born like that (Juan Postigo) or because life decided it was part of their story (Jordan Thomas); others have custom-fit synthetic elements (Meredith Dwyer). Some have a well-curved throw to accommodate a one-arm position (Andy Austen); others play despite incredible physical challenges (Max Togisala tied his own PR on Tuesday with a 67 … shot from the seat of a three-wheeled VertaCat golf cart). Still others compete under a category with an intellectual disability (as was the case with Kody Conover – aka “Kody with a K” — perhaps the funnest competitor, with Down Syndrome).

Others shot as many as nine under par (Kipp Popert, who won his fourth consecutive Adaptive Wednesday afternoon with a closing 63); others rolled 113 putts-'em-all-out (Kellie Valentine, the legendary golfer who competed three decades before the Adaptive Open came along, and who won't be stopping competing anytime soon if she has a say in it).

Some came even though they weren't on the field at all, driving or flying to Maryland for a chance to spend a few days supporting their folks … and maybe feel a little supported, too. (Matt Parker, a versatile player from Chicago, failed to qualify for the Open but came anyway, playing for Jordan Thomas.)

They – and the USGA – are united by one word: the community. For many years, these golfers have existed on the fringes of the sport. It is hidden from people and places and competitions that were important. He's relegated to ceremonial roles, forced to compete under archaic rules that the USGA expressly rejects or, worse, forgotten entirely.

Now, these athletes meet every year at the Adaptive Open, an event with all the trappings of elite championship golf: food for the sharpshooters, designated parking, travel allowance (courtesy of Deloitte) and old-school trophies. For three days, they compete for all-male and female awards, and also compete against others of the same handicap, in one of several categories specified by the USGA.

All for national-the title of bragging rights.

“This is amazing,” said Jordan Thomas, a double amputee who won low points in the men's lower leg category. “Conversion golf is growing. I have friends that I see all the time at events. And, yes, we have events now, and some of those events are paying off money. It's not much, but it's there.”

It is something something. Hitting the practice range, filled not only with golf clubs but also wheelchairs and motorized scooters, crutches and crutches, prosthetic legs and sighted caddies. It's unlike anything you've ever seen on a golf course – or most of the players have ever seen.

“It's definitely our Super Bowl,” Thomas said. “You are kidding me, start this, there is nothing else like this.

For many competitors, the point is not even about representation or ability – it's about the simple joy of being out there competing with yourself. You never know how good those simple miracles feel until you wonder if you'll ever have them again.

Asked Tuesday what message she had for her disabled teammates, Annie Hayes, a 63-year-old sitting in the women's division, said, “You have to play this game. You don't have to quit.”

Hayes was speaking after the round in which he made an eagle for the first time.

That sense of persistence applies beyond the women's division, where Hayes was the lone contender this week. It also works for those who have been wondering if golf can address its highest calling as a connector without falling prey to its pitfalls of exclusion and closure. At Adaptive, you don't have to give up on that dream either. Don't believe it.

And if it strikes you that golf can be this way, it can be this is good? It's a bit strange.

“When you talk about the unifying power of golf, is there a better event than this one?” USGA president Kevin Hammer said Wednesday. “This is one of the most exciting events I've ever been to.”

My job this week was simple: Cover the golfers playing in their national championship. To open our eyes that are always cloudy and unenthusiastic and cynical to a golf tournament that is none of these things. Telling the stories of players who have overcome the greatest challenges, and who have chosen compassion over bitterness. I couldn't say everything story in the field. Not even close.

I it can be I told you that this church felt like a community. Like something to care about. Love belief.

When was the last time you believed in golf? When did you last play sports to make you believe anything else?

If it's too long, there's a quick fix: Visit the range at the US Adaptive Open.