Village Shepherd

James was really miserable. He'd been learning to play golf since he was six years old, and now he was ten his father had entered him into all sorts of competitions. He hadn't done very well to start with, but a fortnight ago he'd had the amazing experience of winning his first competition.

It had been quite a big competition with a lot of older boys taking part, so James hadn't expected to do very well. Perhaps that was why he had won. He'd felt very relaxed, knowing that he couldn't hope to compete against people two and three years older than he was, so he'd just gone out there and swung the club through the ball. It wasn't until he was on the fifteenth hole that it had really come home to him how well he was doing. He had immediately started to go to pieces, but by then he was so far ahead of the rest of the field that it didn't matter. He had won the competition by one stroke, and had been presented with a big silver trophy and a new golf bag.

It had been the most wonderful sensation. Everyone had crowded round and made a great fuss of him, especially as he was so much younger than the rest of the field. James had even been asked to sign one or two autographs, which was a bit embarrassing since he couldn't write very well, but the interest shown in him by a visiting golf professional more than made up for his limited writing skills.

James was so excited all that night that it was difficult to sleep after he got to bed. And for once, he couldn't wait to go to school next day in order to show his trophy and receive the adulation of the whole school. He was called on to the platform in front of the whole school, while the headmaster shook his hand and told the school how brilliant James was and how proud they were of him. It was quite the best time in the whole of James' life.

He had spent the days since then daydreaming of his future as a professional golfer, and wondered whether he might eventually become even better than Tiger Woods.

That was a fortnight ago. But now, everything had changed. He had started out on the latest competition full of confidence and enthusiasm, and raring to go. This was a much easier competition because the upper age limit was eleven years old, so James was one of the oldest in the field this time. He started out on the first tee with a little lad of eight who barely came up to James' shoulder. But embarrassingly, James had fluffed his first drive, sending it off the fairway into the deep rough where he had no chance of retrieving it. He dropped a shot, and then missed the putt so that he was two down by the end of the first hole.

Meanwhile, his young opponent, who couldn't hit the ball nearly as far as James, was playing quietly up the middle. Things went from bad to worse for James. After that, he couldn't get the feel of the putts and his fairway shots were all over the place. He couldn't understand what was wrong. Only a fortnight ago he had played brilliantly, and now he was playing utter rubbish.

Nobody wanted to talk to him after the game. The visiting professional was all over some other boy, the boy who had won this week. James couldn't believe his dream had ended so quickly and so devastatingly. He felt like throwing his clubs into the nearest river. And to make matters worse, his mother put her arms around him and hugged him with everybody watching.

"Never mind, dear," she said soothingly. "You'll win against next week, don't you worry. Everything will soon be all right again."

James wanted to punch her. As a matter of fact, he wanted to punch everybody. He wanted to scream and shout and yell, "It's not fair!" But he knew he had to be a good sport and pretend he didn't mind losing.

He couldn't help feeling down in the dumps for a long time after that. He didn't go out on the golf course again, and he certainly didn't go on to the practice range. He thought he probably would give up golf for good.

Then one day when he was lying in the armchair like a real couch potato feeling sorry for himself, he saw a television interview with Tiger Woods. Tiger had just won six major competitions in a row, something which had only been achieved once before, about 50 years ago. "It's all right for him," thought James to himself, resentfully. But then he suddenly heard what Tiger was saying.

"At one time I lost and lost and lost," Tiger said, laughing. "But when that happens, you just have to pick yourself up and start all over again. It's really hard, but I'm glad I lost in those early days. You have to go through the bad times if you really want to experience the good times. You need to keep the inspiration of any wins always before your eyes, and allow that inspiration to work to your advantage. Anyone who learns to lose the game without losing confidence in himself or herself, and who goes on believing in their own God-given talent, will be a winner all the way. Because people who can lose but still go on trying, build the sort of character that's needed to become a winner."

It seemed he was looking straight at James as he spoke. James jumped off the couch, ran to fetch his golf clubs, climbed on his bike and set off for the practice range.