For the first time in Jimmy Hart’s life, everything is going right. He is finally on the professional golf tour, he has an incredible boyfriend, and he feels like he’s part of a family instead of standing on the outside and looking in. But just because his life is perfect doesn’t mean his game is perfect. Getting on the pro tour was only the first step -- now that he’s there, he has to find a way to stay there and now blow it!
But things start to unravel for Jimmy just six weeks after he won his spot. One bad tournament won’t ruin his career, but it is still devastating to his self-confidence. After embarrassing himself in front of a home-town crowd, Jimmy isn’t sure if he belongs on the tour anymore at all, or if his reputation of being inconsistent is right and he’ll never amount to anything. Fortunately, his loving boyfriend, golf legend Ray Wilson, knows exactly what Jimmy needs to put this bad day behind him.
Jimmy Hart’s life was perfect for about six weeks. Which, all in all, was more perfection than he ever expected.
In those six weeks, every dream of his came true. Ray Wilson not only liked him, he wanted the two of them to be together. He went from being an orphan with no family to having an incredible boyfriend with a daughter who wasn’t Jimmy’s daughter, but they felt like a family when they were together. When he was with them on the golf course or having dinner, or sleeping in Ray’s bed, or just holding Ray’s hand under the blanket while they watched a movie, he felt like he belonged somewhere. And not only did he have this wonderful little family, he was also a professional golfer now. On the professional tour. For the rest of the season at least. Even if he had a few bad rounds, he would still have exemption status for all the regular tournaments until the end of the year.
Even if he hadn’t made the cut and played the weekend at the GT Championship, his status on the tour wouldn’t change. Of course, if that happened enough times, he wouldn’t have enough points to retain his pro card and return to the tour next season, but that was the worst-case scenario, and nothing he needed to worry about that particular Sunday afternoon. But as he signed his scorecard and turned it in, he could feel his heart breaking. It wasn’t just a bad round of golf. It was a bloodbath.
Jimmy wasn’t sure what happened. The whole tournament had been a bit of a mess, and this was the worst possible place to choke. The GT Championship happened every February in Phoenix, and as a child, it meant everything to Jimmy. It was the one time of the year he could actually attend a professional tournament, and he always managed to get his hands on at least a ticket for Thursday or Friday. When he was a kid, it wasn’t really a big deal, but by the time he was in college, it became one of the bigger stops on the tour, and now tickets sold out almost a year in advance He dreamed of playing here, of hearing the crowd cheering for him as he walked up to the sixteenth hole, or putted for birdie to close out his victory on Sunday afternoon, and now he felt like he was stuck in a fucking nightmare.
He barely made it to Saturday, sitting right on the cut line with eight other players and three over par. At least making it to the weekend guaranteed enough money to pay Theo something for his time, and he wasn’t walking away completely empty-handed, but he had the feeling he deserved to be sent home after his terrible round on Friday afternoon. Three bogies and a double-bogey put him over par, and made his stomach churn and bile bubble in the back of his throat. He couldn’t even blame the weather. No rain in the forecast, and the wind had died down to basically nothing after midday. The course itself was moderately difficult. It had a few tricky spots, but it wasn’t set up to be particularly challenging. When Jimmy called Ray Friday night, he was encouraging and upbeat, didn’t seem worried in the least. Bad rounds happened to everybody, it wasn’t the end of the world, and Jimmy still made the cut, so there was no reason to be negative
Saturday had been a bit better than Friday. He had an early tee time due to his shitty score, and he managed to get a few strokes back, but he was still eight behind the leader by the time he walked off the eighteenth. He turned in his card and went into the clubhouse for lunch, but everything tasted like sawdust -- even though it all looked amazing. He even snapped a few pictures to send to Chloe and sent a cheerful text to Ray, though he declined the incoming call. He didn’t want to talk to Ray. He didn’t want to talk to anybody. He wanted to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him. He trudged off to the practice range, determined to work it out. His caddy, Theo, found him there after the first bucket of balls.
“Well, there you are! I heard you were out here beating yourself up.”
“Just working out the kinks.”
“You had a bad day. There’s nothing to work out.”
“I’ve had a back week,” Jimmy countered. “You saw me out there today.”
“What are you talking about? You played great today.”
“Not good enough.”
“You turned in a clean card and moved up ten places on the leader's board. What else could you want?”
