Playing for Ruth

Tonight, the lights turn back on. Due to complaints from the surrounding residents, the lights have been off for months, preventing me, and other aspiring players, from practicing late into the night. But tonight, I swing the club with joy, flying the ball into the illuminated driving range, ecstatic for the golf course, because the nighttime revenue is one of the sources that keeps the course alive.

When most people think of golf courses, they picture pristine conditions, freshly manicured greens, and tee boxes with fantastic views. I did not grow up playing golf at one of those courses.

I grew up playing at Ruth Park, a public nine-hole course in an urban area of Saint Louis struggling to maintain its grounds and replenish its supplies. My home course is Ruth Park. The disintegrating cart path rolling over leaf-covered hills, the third green truncated by a fence so the long shots don’t soar into the busy street, the sand traps void of sand— all present quirky challenges that I love to face every time I play. To me, this course has character. After a while, the lavish courses all start to look the same.

But it is not just the physical attributes of Ruth Park that keep me playing. It is the unexpected family I have found in the clubhouse. The guys who run the golf course come from backgrounds much different from mine, yet we have formed a genuine bond. When I first started playing at Ruth Park, I was nervous because there are not many teenage girls who play there. Before I knew it, I was on a first-name basis with the guys in the clubhouse, and they were letting me play the course whenever I wanted, giving me lessons, and genuinely interested in my challenges and triumphs. I have found a strong support system at Ruth Park that I truly believe exists only there. They were the ones I went to in tears when I didn’t qualify for the state tournament my freshmen year, but were also the ones to share my joy after I medaled my junior year. One of my biggest challenges was not being able to break ninety in a tournament. I finally did in the district match, and the first thing I did was hop in my car and take my second-place medal to the clubhouse. “Girl, you didn’t just break ninety, you shattered it!” Cory told me as I celebrated with my own personal fan club.

I would not give up my unique family at Ruth Park for any prestigious country club. Doug is the respected head pro, who always offers his wisdom and advice. Cory knows if he tries to teach me how to chip, I am most likely going to roll my eyes. And Richard is ever inspiring and always hilarious, making me feel better after a tournament that didn’t go well or making me feel like the greatest golfer in the world after a minor victory.

When I first started playing at the course, never did I think that so many years later I would be rejoicing about something as simple as the lights shining on the driving range at night. But the course has become one of my favorite places in the world. The people who work the course have become my instructors, my mentors, my fan club, and my family, so when I play golf I don’t just play for myself, I play for Ruth Park as well.

Hey guys so if you want to comment on my essay, here is what I’m struggling with:

1. I don’t know how to get across my thesis/I’m not 100% sure what I’m arguing. I guess just that you don’t need to belong to a fancy golf club to play and/or really love it. Do I need a sentence that clearly states that?
2. If I do need to clearly state my thesis, do I also need to argue an opposing side?
3. Also, are my transitions weird?