It was approaching 7:00 pm on a classic Georgian spring day. The tall pines were casting their long shadows through the bright setting sun.
There are certain moments in our lives that end up being turning points, likely to go a long way to defining who we are , where we are heading, even, who we have been. Moments that we have already seen in our dreams and tirelessly prepared ourselves for. These occasions occur infrequently when hard work and results, victory and defeat, growth and stagnation, redemption and purgatory come together to make a determination. This past Sunday at the Masters, as the roars echoed through the tall pruned Georgia pines, Sergio Garcia could only hear the thoughts in his head reminding him to stay in the present. Garcia, now 37, had shown great promise as a 19 year wonder boy destined to chase Tiger Woods for many years to come. On this brilliant Sunday, now past his prime, the Spaniard was staring directly at his destiny. In 73 attempts Garcia had failed to bring home a coveted major title. With only a few holes left, and two strokes behind, “El Nino” understood this could possibly be his last opportunity to set the record straight. His chance to toss the giant monkey off his back was right in front of him. Numerous close call losses had earned him the reputation as a choker and a crybaby. Too many times he had whined after defeat and blamed the bad luck delivered by the “Golfing Gods” as a reason for not meeting expectations. With the whole world watching he was in a position to change his legacy.
It has become a tradition that my father and I watch Masters Sunday together at my house. The only changes over the years are the size of the flat screen television and the amount of times we need to get up for a bathroom break. “This is going to be fun to see how Sergio responds to the pressure he must be carrying today.” Although my words fell on deaf ears they got me thinking about my own big moments of reckoning that had left their permanent mark on my soul. In my personal defining moments how had I handled adversity? How did I react to being up against the wall ? While Sergio was digging his golf ball out of scrubs on the 13th at Augusta, looking to fall four strokes behind with five hole to play , my mind was drifting back to the kickball field in New Paltz New York . 
My family had just moved into town and I was a scared eight year old wanting to fit in. Second graders can be pretty rough on the new kid in school and “little Richie Siegel “ was no exception. Sporting my new slick rain coat I was the last player on my team to get a turn at the plate. Before Kyle Peterson rolled the big red rubber ball in Paul Baker came to the mound and huddled with his infield. First he said, “that is a stupid jacket”, and the next thing I knew both teams moved to a different field and continued the game with me standing alone . Feeling the raw emptiness of possible lifetime abandonment I charged towards the other field . Paul and myself rolled around the grass for approximately one minute. I emerged with a bloodied lip and a tattered green rain coat. I had lost the only physical fight I have had in my entire life, but made a major step towards winning the war.
Garcia fought his way out of the trees on 13 to save a par and was facing a 15 foot eagle putt on 15 to tie for the lead.
By the time the fan crazies had mobbed the court and Rhett Weires was being drowned in a sea of bodies, I had already rushed into the locker room to breathe in the sweet smell of victory. I was the 25 year old New Paltz Boys Varsity Basketball coach who thought he could change the world. Minutes earlier we had defeated perennial power and defending league champion Wallkill High 68-67 on a free throw by Rhett Weires with no time remaining on the clock. Alone, away from the celebration, I could hear someone making their way through the maze of lockers . Embarrassed by the moisture of triumph I wiped my eyes with my cheap sport jacket , stood up straight , and swung around to face my visitor. I recognized the tall man in front of me who leaned his hand on my shoulder. “I am so proud of you. You are one hell of a coach,” before my tears burst into a full bellow the man of few words was gone. Proof that our lives can take drastic turns I only coached for two more years before I was fired. I had other opportunities but I decided to permanently stay out of coaching. That decision to not go back to the hardwood was instrumental to me also giving up my teaching career. But nothing ever tarnished the moment I had with my dad that December night back in 1986.
Garcia and Justin Rose stood on the 72nd tee of the 81st Masters dead even.
Mary Kate came running down from a packed high school gymnasium to give her sister a big embrace. Laura had just completed the speech she needed to deliver as Queen of The May Day festivities at Kingston High School. In my younger days I was convinced that raising children would not be in the cards for me. I was way too selfish and irresponsible to be an acceptable parent. When I was 35 it appeared that having a child was not going to be a possibility. But when Laura was born I was convinced that I did not want her to carry the burden of being an only child. It was 13 months later that Laura welcomed home her baby sister Mary Kate.
Now, 18 years later, the two of them were hugging each other in front of their peers, parents, and teachers. The day symbolized a happy ending to my job as a full time parent . Oh , I know we are parents for eternity and I will always be there for my girls in any situation I am called upon. Though, I believe there comes a day that should signify the end of day to day parenting. When it is time for children to be adults and time for their parents to start making themselves priority number one. Donna and I walked out of the Kate Walton Field House that fine first day of May knowing this was both an ending and a new beginning.
7:15 pm rolled around and the two European golfers were still tied getting ready for a sudden death playoff.
The moon was giving off so much illumination that the ripples of the Hudson river could be seen clearly from 50 yards away. Well past midnight the Rhinecliff train station paints a picture similar to a scene from an old Sherlock Holmes movie. Walking north in the parking lot adjacent to the train tracks was a lone figure in search of his car. It had been a very long and trying two years since the time I had been unceremoniously fired in the spring of 2013 by my employer of the past 22 years. It was bad enough I was handed my walking papers but on top of that ,a year later, as I struggle to get my start up business off the ground , I was sued for pirating clients by my ex bosses. 
My counter suit was filled with depositions, strategizing , and exorbitant attorney fees. After a full year of battle I was returning from New York City and a full day of mediation to determine who would win the war of intelligence , emotion, pride, and most importantly, money. The enemy had been out to hurt me making the fight not only about business but personal integrity. It turned out the amount of cash my former employer agreed to pay me that day far exceeded any number speculated by my counsel prior to filing the counter suit. My lawyer later claimed that he had never witnessed such a reversal of fate. For me it represented full vindication of who I was, and who I had been. A huge victory over a large corporation and some small minded , arrogant people with an over bloated opinion of their own importance. Before I reached my vehicle I got on my knees and looked straight up to the perfectly round orange ball in the sky. Out of nowhere I bellowed into the air “That’s what you get for underestimating me!!!!!!”
In the golden twilight of a perfect Sunday at The Masters Sergio Garcia was at the rear of the 18th green of Augusta National Golf Course on his knees kissing the turf.
Finally, he was realizing a moment that he had come so close to capturing on many other weekend’s past. It seemed like only yesterday he was a 19 year old kid clicking his heels and running down the fairway at Medinah stalking a legend it turned out he would never catch. Now at 37 , carrying the demons of past disappointments , on the 60th birthday of his deceased boyhood idol Seve Ballesteros, he had won his first major title. Before he put on the coveted green jacket that goes along with winning the Masters Sergio Garcia looked up to the sky and whispered words of redemption. How far he had traveled to get to this moment. . We all dream our dreams . Some of the fortunate ones have their most glorious visions come to attrition, most of the times we fall short before crossing the finish line. Sometimes we quit on ourselves, other times we keep fighting. On a few rare occasions, when we least expect it, when we are calmer and wiser, we get to feel like we reached the top of the mountain, at least for the moment. The 2016 Master’s champ Danny Willet slipped the green sports coat onto the new champion inside the Butler Cabin. ‘The Golfing Gods finally smiled down on Sergio today’, I uttered out loud. As my dad got up to make his way home I could feel his eyes upon me :” Richie , you should know better, God had nothing to do with it.”
