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From the sidelines

With summer in full swing, the Marion High School sports season has taken a back seat to REC baseball and softball, swimming, and putt-putt.

Yes, putt-putt. The game that doesn't discriminate against age or gender, and provides a wide assortment of ball colors.

While it might not be on the REC activities list in Marion, I saw plenty of it this past week while vacationing at Virginia Beach.

The best part was playing with two-year-old son Mitch, the worst was taking penalty strokes for hitting out of turn, and hitting someone else's ball when playing with my wife Jamie, brother Willie, and sister Rachel (Willie and I are pretty serious about the rules).

Mitch chose red for the color of his ball, and he was given a red, plastic putter.

Playing with him was like watching someone win the lottery. He was jumping up and down, screaming, hollering, and even posing for pictures.

He gave a wide, cheesy grin after a hole-in-one in which he moved the ball about six inches from the hole.

We got one other club so Jamie and I could take turns playing with him. Jamie chose the color of our shared ball, and Mitch knew right away she was going with pink.

It was a hot day, the last of our vacation, but Mitch didn't seem to mind. He was sweating, but nothing was going to stop him from playing "golf ball."

As we made our way through the 18-hole course, we came to number 12 where another boy, who looked Mitch's age, was playing with his family.

The father of the little boy obviously saw Mitch's enthusiasm, and could see him racing toward the next hole which they already occupied.

The father told us to go ahead, they needed to rest a little anyway.

Mitch went charging up to the hole, finished in about 20 seconds, and moved on to number 13.

We finished the next five holes with Mitch still excited as he was when he started, and one-year-old Addie looking worn out in her stroller from the entire week.

Hole number 18 was at the top of a big hill, and with just a tap, Mitch's ball went sailing down, bouncing off rocks set up to try and hinder each and every shot.

As it went rolling down, for a second I thought he might have a true hole-in-one.

Picking up more speed, it bounced off the outer ledge, and went straight for the hole. We all held our breath for a second, and watched as it hit the lip of cup, and rolled off.

It would have been the perfect ending to a perfect week for his mom and dad, but for Mitch it meant he got to hit the ball one more time.

To reach Mike send an e-mail to mnorris817@gmail.com, or call (620) 382-2165.

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