John's Golf Course

John's Golf Course

Few breathed as the young man in the red and white shirt stepped up to the tee—27th out of 28 golfers to putt in the shootout. Thirty feet from the hole, John Espinoza brought the club back and tapped the ball. As if pulled by an invisible thread, the golf ball glided across the green and sank neatly into the cup.

The crowd erupted in shouts and cheers, and several men lifted John onto their shoulders and carried him off the green. John grinned from his perch and high-fived everyone, including his dad, Steve, who wiped at tears. The golfer’s handicap wasn’t a matter of a few points on a scorecard. The 24-year-old has Down syndrome.

Five years ago, Steve and his wife, Juana, of Eureka, Mont., (pop. 1,017) couldn’t have foreseen this moment. Their oldest son, Michael, a talented high school athlete, had died in an auto accident at age 20 when one of his friends fell asleep at the wheel. The Espinozas, who years earlier had lost a baby daughter to a heart defect, were devastated.

The grieving Steve barely noticed one summer evening when John got out Michael’s golf clubs and began to swing awkwardly at some balls.

Every day after that, John had the clubs out again.

Steve took John on the local courses, but golfers were impatient when he had to take extra strokes. “We’ve got 10 acres around our house. Why don’t we build a green?” Steve suggested one day.

“Could we, Dad?” John cried.

With a donated bag of seed and advice from course owners, Steve planted a green. Two neighbors who were loggers suggested taking out some trees and adding a fairway.

Steve agreed—and soon realized he needed another green at the end of that fairway. A disabled Vietnam vet, Steve could work on the course only an hour or so at a time, but everyone pitched in—especially John. Steve and Juana racked up thousands of miles driving to Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Coeur d’ Alene, Idaho, to pick up donations of mowers, golf carts, irrigation pipe, golf balls—more than $100,000 worth of equipment. A 10-hole course took shape.

Today, “John’s Golf Course” covers 10 acres and welcomes everyone—especially kids and the disabled. The longest hole is 320 yards, the shortest 143.

“It’s a course without formal stuffiness and set rules,” says Jim Peacock, superintendent of the Meadow Lake Golf Course in Whitefish, Mont. (pop. 5,032). “You can play at your own pace, and one of the dogs, Daisy or Zing, can retrieve for you. It’s a great place for kids and beginners to see if they like golf.”

Steve says John always wanted to do everything Michael did. “But the school said, ‘you’re handicapped, so you have to be in Special Olympics.’ Golfing is a way for John to feel equal with everyone else.”

John’s attention span is too short for him to hold a job, so golfing has become his life. “Golfing here is free,” Steve says. “Our greens fees are that people have to golf with John,” if he asks.

That’s apparently no hardship. John’s photographic memory for faces has made him many friends, and he revels in showing visitors around.

John has beat out many nonhandicapped golfers at the annual tournament Steve holds. “He beat me,” admits Dutch Truman, who has known the Espinozas for 20 years. “John does a lot better than you think he’s going to.”

Asked the secret of his success, John smiles, “Michael sends me the signal from the sky,” then adds wistfully, “I would’ve loved to golf with him.”

Steve says John’s life is a million times richer because of the course.

“Out of the loss of something so precious came something good,’’ Steve reflects. “Without the golf course, I’d just be sulking in my own sorrow.’’

Chris McGonigle has been writing for national magazines for 14 years.

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