How I fell in love with golf
There was once a mid-40s mum named Caz who had spent nearly 20 years in the all-too-comfortable chaos of suburban life. Three kids, a dog, a cat and a husband. Caz had her fair share of hobbies over the years—tennis, cooking, drinking with the girls—but then, one day, she tried golf.
Something clicked. It wasn’t just the thrill of hitting tiny balls into the unknown but the ping of her authentic self being unleashed. As she swung the driver, she realised two things: one, she was really quite good at this, and two, she was really quite gay.
In classic mid-life-crisis style, Caz didn’t just tiptoe out of the closet—she busted through the doors with a driver in one hand and a packed suitcase in the other.
Then, because the universe adores a bold plot twist, she fell in love with a woman living halfway across the globe. Eighteen months of FaceTime flirtations later, this new love was relocating to Australia. They married on a sunny day at their cabin in the woods, surrounded by Caz’s three resilient kids, who thought Mum’s life redo was a bit of a vibe.
But then, just when life seemed as peachy as a Sunday morning drive, Caz’s hips betrayed her. Her once-easy swing turned into a tragic waddle across the fairway. Golf became less about winning and more about limping to the 19th before collapsing in agony.
The solution? Two shiny new hip replacements in 3 months in later 2024. Once the painkillers wore off, she found herself staring at her reflection in the living room window, holding a 9-iron and thinking, Alright, let's rebuild this swing, one prosthetic joint at a time.
Relearning to play wasn’t easy. Caz rebuilt her strength and developed a mindset as strong as her titanium hips. Her comeback was like a cheesy underdog movie, but this was her reality, and she was determined to enjoy every moment of it.
She’d swing, breathe, and swing again, reminding herself that if she could come out, move on, and come back, then damn it, she could also make par.
It was more than just a game now; it was a metaphor for living unapologetically, even if living meant occasionally cursing at a bunker shot.
Now, Caz’s mission is clear: she wants to help others return to the game—hip replacements optional, but a good sense of humour required. She coaches with the same irreverent spirit that’s gotten her this far, empowering her clients with a positive mindset, and, above all, the importance of staying true to yourself.