She was young, beautiful, full of life, of a sweet golf swing, and an even sweeter disposition. She played professional golf. She was part of the future of the LPGA, which really doesn’t have much of a future. But Erica added to whatever was there. The idea of a 25 year old woman dropping dead all of a sudden causes one to pause. How could you not pause? How could you not gasp? How could you not bow your head and then shake it back and forth, trying to make sense of it. Well, unless she was murdered, there is no making sense of it. And they’re not tellling us if she was murdered. We’d shake our heads if she were murdered but at least we could make sense of it. Murder answers questions and it claims alot of 25 year old men and women. But they’re going to wait before they tell us because maybe they want us to forget Erica Blasberg. But I for one will not forget Erica. I didn’t follow her or anything. I’m just real struck by a young person following their dream. I dreamed of playing professional golf at one time. I was 17 and my family was dead set against it. College was the right choice. Pro golf was beneath me. Hell, I don’t remember their rationale after all these years. I knew I loved golf, played pretty well, and could just see myself on tour playing, at that time, with Arnie, Jack, Billy, Gene, Johnny, Lee. A dream. Dreams are pretty damn special, aren’t they? Erica Blasberg had a dream, maybe just like mine when I was 17. She was on her way to making that dream happen. That’s even more special. Much more special than mine after I buckled under the weight of family opinion and judgment. I went on to other dreams, like living in the woods and writing books, but the dream of playing pro golf never left my consciousness. And when I see a young rising star like Rory or Ricky or Jason or Jordon or Erica or Jiyai Shin I see some of my early dreams in their eyes. Makes me feel good to see that kind of piss and vinegar, that kind of courage and grit, the kind I used to have helping Overbrook High win the city golf championship in ’63.
Erica Blasberg’s dream is over, but maybe she can inspire other young players to aim high, and practice your asses off, and hit a million balls, as Rocco might say, and finally make it to the pro tour. Go ahead: Live a dream!
