The memoir, OUR LIFE IN GOLF, chronicles my life in golf with my father's. Mike Bencriscutto is the singularly defined expression of a life colored in spiritual and athletic genius-representing a neoclassical renaissance of patriarchal beauty blende...
It was one thing to talk a good golf swing, and quite another be able to demonstrate it under the pressure of intense competition.
Sunday nights at Racine's Washington Park Golf Course were legendary. The area's top amateur golfing guns would assemble for some high-stakes skins play. Many were Mike's students or had learned their swing from him and enjoyed the challenge of besting their golfing guru on the course. Few were able to accomplish that feat. The intimidation began with Mike's drive off the first tee, a 600-yard par 5.
There was a double row of mature trees down the left side of the fairway. About 200 yards out the fairway took a bend to the left. If you hit your dive straight or right you could end up in trouble.
Mike had mastered a low-rising tunnel drive that would first parallel the trees, then, magically bend left to follow the fairway at just the right time. It was not uncommon for a gallery to follow this august group from hole to hole until the setting sun forced the competition to stop.
And what did my father do on Mondays, his only day off from his duties as the Washington Park Golf Course club pro? He always found a competitive match at some other course in order to keep his edge sharp.
Was all this play or was this work...with Mike the two became inseparable.
As a child, on an early spring day before the golf season actually started, I'd be roller-skating in our basement. I remember my father wielding tools to fashion a new counter for the clubhouse at Washington Park. With so much else on his mind, during breakfast he still had the parenting presence to point out our elderly neighbors across the street and tell us kids to be kind to them.
This was just a hint of the old-world values upon which the foundation of his character was built. Just a flow of words released like his golf swing, managed with matchless finesse.
He was so grounded, so stable, and we felt that peace whenever in his presence. He gave us a way to...walk gently on this Good Earth.
What Mike did, in his role as a professional golfer, was not about an hourly wage. He was striving toward mastery of his craft and that meant the relentless pursuit of perfection.
Being in Mike's inner circle meant applying his standard of principled discipline as a way of life. And it wasn't always about golf either, but that didn't matter.
For Mike, the master instructor, to invest his time the student had to be ready with the right attitude and effort to not only groove a successful golf swing, but groom their life in such a way as to honor their own humanity in grace and humility. But how would you know if you were accepted into his inner circle?
When Mike referred to you by using an affectionate nickname when talking about you to other golfers, others who'd already earned a place in his inner circle, then, you knew there was a place for you in his heart. From that point on Mike was committed to watching you closely and guiding your progress. Yet, there was a price to pay for this privileged status.
Mike was leading you to a place where you would be strong enough to take command of both your golf swing and your life, as in his view the two were inseparable.
That was a frightening prospect for some. He insisted that you lived by the rules of the game. He made it clear that we had the freedom to choose, that we had to decide to take his correction and act on it.
Most struggled to fully comprehend what Mike was expecting from them. He taught this important principle by example—passionately striving for excellence. Those who understood were able to join Mike's band of golfing brothers and sisters.
On the course Mike was a fierce competitor, but that wasn't what drove him.
It was Love for the game, and love for those who loved the game that truly inspired him to succeed so as to be a worthy example for others to follow. After one of his weekly junior tournaments, appreciative parents and their young golfers would sit in the clubhouse listening to Mike telling golf stories—modern parables that were more about how to live a life full of integrity than about how to win a golf tournament.
Noticing a junior, weighed down with his bag of clubs, riding his bike to the course, always brought a smile to his face, knowing this young person shared his love for the game—causing Mike to remember all the similar days from his youth when he couldn't wait to play or practice. Under Mike's management, junior passes at Washington Park rose from 40 to 400.
His pastoral and paternal charisma continued to attract more and more of the faithful to the game. Was Mike's message was one of Winning is Everything. No, Mike was focused on community and knew that a good life for all could come when the individual was feeling validated through making contributions to the welfare of the group. As the number of junior golfers grew, Mike knew they needed regular, quality instruction.
He understood that the ordinary player kept the game alive and that proper instruction would fuel their passion for golf by helping each golfer continue to improve.
With improvement came the pride and accomplishment that leads to genuine satisfaction in achieving something that you work hard at while investing your gifts and talents.
For Mike, teaching meant sacrificing time he could have spent honing his swing skills, but dedicated to his profession as a teaching pro, the choice was easy to make.
Having achieved a certain amount of local and state tournament success, at 14 Mike began sharing his knowledge with others and continued teaching throughout his life and career.
Like his Italian brothers and sisters and parents, Mike had a long love affair with life, working hard to give back what the game had so generously given him.
He knew what it took to be a champion—a determined eyes-on-the-prize steady pace and he was willing to pass on that gift of wisdom to his students.
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