Just over two years ago, I started my new career as an assistant golf professional in coastal Mississippi. I knew absolutely nothing about the golf industry, but I am a curious guy and quick learner, so what the heck?

The second half of July at our course, I quickly learned, is very busy with tournaments, so I got thrown right into the fire. I helped where I could, observed and asked lots of questions, but I really didn’t feel like I was of much assistance.

At one point, while our general manager, head professional at the time, and other assistant professional were busy in the weeds of the event, they asked me to handle the very simple task of preparing the scoreboard for the tournament.

I didn’t know that such a seemingly simple duty could be done so wrong by such a seemingly competent individual…me. I did everything wrong. The markers I used were wrong. The font was wrong. The spacing was wrong. The size was wrong. Two plus years later, I laugh and laugh. But at the time, I remember feeling a tad defeated. I can’t even get a scoreboard right.

—

We host this same tournament at the same time every year, so this year was my third time around the block. It’s a two day event with 128 players each day and involves lots of moving parts, but it’s similar in its operation year over year. However, there is one major difference over the past three years. Year 1, I screwed up a scoreboard. Year 3, I’m in charge of running the whole damn thing.

In the ten days leading up to the tournament, I have lots of responsibilities. Some days, I show up in street clothes to paint hazards and boundaries on the course. Other days I meet with our general manager to ensure that all parties are on the same page with how all of the food and drink will be served. Some days I need to understand and communicate the other particulars. It’s not rocket science, but there are a lot of moving parts.

On the days of the event, the checklist is long, but it’s no different than loan closing day from my past career in banking. Make sure the golf course is set up correctly, the driving range is ready, the carts are ready, the food and beverage operation is ready, create a festive vibe, on and on. This is slightly more difficult when my right hand tournament man is down with Covid, as was the case this past weekend, but the rest of the crew stepped up.

Again, none of this is brain surgery, but they are all things that had to be learned. 25 months on, I am no expert, but I have learned so much by just jumping in the deep end.

It’s a fine line when pursuing something so new and foreign. On the one hand, you just dive in, get a few things wrong, learn so much from it, and improve immensely. On the other hand, you get so many things wrong that it kills your confidence before you really get started. I’ve experienced this feeling with becoming a golf professional, becoming a teacher and coach, and becoming a tournament player. It’s a fine line.

In industries where getting things wrong isn’t life or death, I’m a big believer in getting the reps. Lucky for me, I did not pursue rocket science. Only golf.

—

When people ask me what my favorite and least favorite things about becoming a golf professional are, I answer very quickly. I don’t love marking the golf course in 100 degree heat, and I hate making scoreboards. I hate it.

So I am thankful to my team that did the tough work this year. The tough work of writing peoples’ names in a reasonable size in a reasonable font that I just can’t seem to get right.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

Join the abk community!

Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.

It could have easily been the pizza at local favorite Pequod’s Pizza, but it wasn’t.

It could have easily been the family boat ride on Lake Michigan, but it wasn’t.

It could have easily been the beautiful skyline views, but it wasn’t.

It could have easily been the 90th minute winner at Soldier Field, but it wasn’t.

It could have easily been the 36 hole walk at North Shore Country Club, eating, drinking, making birdies and new friends, but it wasn’t.

It could have easily been taking my kids, one in my arm and one by my side, into a liquor store on the north side of Chicago to get Mama a bottle of wine, but it wasn’t. (But it was close.)

No, without a shadow of a doubt, the moment of the trip was Wrigley Field. Red Sox at Cubs. Sunday afternoon. 1:20pm first pitch. Perfect weather. When the two gentlemen, one playing acoustic guitar and one playing saxophone, started playing God Bless America, it was on. When the 35,000+, myself included, started singing along, it was really on. I looked down at my son and thought, It just doesn’t get any better.

—

Roughly two hours earlier, minutes after parking in some secret garage that made me wonder if the car was going to still be there after the game, I saw a sign that read Kids Run the Bases Today. Intrigued, we set off on a mission to make this happen. When we arrived to the sign up area, we were greeted with corn hole boards and a giant television showing the Wimbledon final. We played. We watched. We signed up. Then it was time to enter the cathedral.

The first order of business was to get a Cubs hat. Next, a program. Next, Chicago hot dogs.

If we were going to do a Cubs game, then we were going to do it right. At first glimpse, I was in love. The atmosphere was buzzing. It was a perfect mix of old school and modern. Hell, as an homage to the history of the game, I scored the game real time on a paper scorecard. I felt like it was 1950.

But the stars of the show were the two musicians that got the party started. Their rendition of God Bless America and The Star Spangled Banner, accompanied by all of us, brought chills to my arms and tears to my eyes. When done correctly, they are still the best hype songs to get the action underway correctly.

In a remarkable coincidence, the Cubs starting pitcher was from Lucedale, Mississippi, a town 45 minutes from where we live. Unfortunately, he got rocked. We saw multiple home runs, a grand slam, and before we knew it the score was 11-0 Red Sox. On the flip side, the Sox pitcher was brilliant, striking out nine and only giving up one hit. The pitching legend Rick Sutcliffe led us in Take Me Out to the Ballgame, and then things got a little weird for the last two innings.

—

I had told Christy that we would be back around a certain time, and at this point, we were right on schedule. But inexplicably, the last two innings featured a pitcher’s first outing in the major leagues, five runs that didn’t matter, and a backup catcher throwing 35mph lob balls from the mound, a la The Floater from the movie Rookie of the Year. Entertaining, yes. Time consuming, also yes. I mean, my son still had the bases to run.

An hour later, it was time to go down on the field, a tittilating, yet chaotic experience for sure. What a wonderfully surprising way to end what was already such a great experience, a true modern throwback of a day.

—

Big Tony (not his real name) at the liquor store looked at me with a puzzled look. Hey! What’s going on here? He was referring to the one year old in my arm, the eight year old by my side, and the twist top bottle of wine fancy enough for an I’m late apology but not too fancy to be drunk from a hotel plastic cup in my right hand.

Here’s the situation, I said. Me and my boy just went to the Cubs game earlier while Mama stayed with this one. The game went a little longer than anticipated, and then he got to go down on the field and run the bases. Mama is slightly annoyed, so here we are. Please help.

As if Big Tony and I had known each other for decades, he laughed, rang me up, and asked me if it was worth it. Before I could say a word, my son emphatically answered Yes, and that was that.

I thanked the clerk for his understanding as I giggled to myself. Who knew that an already epic day would now have a new ending? Instead of finishing when my son touched home plate at Wrigley, the story would now end at a liquor store on the north side of Chicago.

With one child in my arm and one child by my side.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

Join the abk community!

Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.

“Life comes at you in all its unanticipated and startling particulars; the thing that makes you an artist is the way you respond.”- GQ, Zach Baron

Two pieces ago, I wrote about how the time between Valentine’s Day and my birthday in May had become insanely busy for me, something I would never have anticipated in this new lifestyle. I believe I compared it to being an accountant in tax season.

In my last piece, I wrote about a very poor performance in my most recent golf tournament due to physical soreness, mental exhaustion, and poor practice habits. The two pieces are obviously related, but more importantly, the poor performance was a great piece of feedback that another adjustment along the abk journey was needed.

—

Designing a one-of-a-kind lifestyle is exciting as hell, but with the prevalence of so many unknowns, it requires endless patience and ability to adjust both mindset and action. Certain macro adjustments regarding a change in geography, change in career, and a growing family are obvious. Other micro changes are less obvious and require a completely open mindset and willingness to adapt, lest the journey hit a wall.

In fact, I HAVE hit a wall. I’m not afraid to say it. I have improved and improved and improved, and I’ve endured the expected plateaus multiple times. But right now, right at this exact second, I’m a little bit stuck. Not in all aspects, but in the one that is most important to my quality of life AND to the success of my new lifestyle.

—

So many things are good in my personal life right now, but living with a constantly sore body, more sore than usual, blunts much of the goodness.

So many things are good in my professional life right now, but not being able to consistently practice my own golf game when I am fresh blunts much of the goodness.

So far this year, my tournament scoring average is five whole strokes higher than last year. Intellectually, I know what I need to be working on, but after eight hours of helping run a very popular golf course and two more hours of teaching, my brain and body want to go home. It irritates me to no end that I know what I need to be doing, but that some days, I am physically unable to do it (25+ years now).

Due to the growth at the course, growth of my teaching business, and all of my varying interests, I find myself at a crossroads. Can anything I am doing be dropped? Sure. I could cut out lots of stuff that is meaningful and that I enjoy, but there is very little riff-raff left to eliminate. Well then, when is my available time? 5-8am and 8-9pm.

—

My brain loves 5-8am, but my body does not. However, in the name of hopes, dreams, physical comfort, and golf progress, it’s time to make another change. The good news is that I know what it takes to be an elite athlete. Been there, done that with soccer. The bad news is that my body was twenty years younger and I had no responsibilities.

But the second piece of good news is that I want it more than ever, and as I’ve illustrated from day one with abk, want is an underrated intangible that drives extremely productive action.

I don’t mind going backwards or being stuck along the journey. Those are key parts of a real journey, I’ve learned. But if there is a way to get unstuck, and there usually is, I’ll find it.

It’s part of the abk DNA.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

Join the abk community!

Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.

This past Monday and Tuesday, I played in my first ever Mississippi Chapter Championship. The tournament was 36 holes at a great course about 45 minutes from my house, and real talk here, I was not prepared.

I was exhausted, my confidence was low, and my body was sore, results of not enough practice/poor practice sessions over the past few weeks. As a golf professional who shoots in the mid 70s regularly when I’m fresh, I would have been thrilled to shoot 79-79 in this particular tournament. (Not ideal, but honest.)

That did not happen. I shot 86-82 with a 10 on one hole the first day, a really terrible detail if it didn’t come with such a great story.

—

As my group approached the 17th hole on Monday, I was +8 through 16 holes on no birdies, four bogies, and back to back double bogies on holes 8 and 9. After having made six straight pars and surviving one lightning delay, I figured if I parred the last two holes, I would shoot 80 on the number and not completely embarrass myself.

However, the 17th hole is a bitch from the back tee. There really is no other way to say it. Depending on the line that you pick, it’s a 225 to 275 yard carry over a river on a weird angle. Throw in a stiff breeze in my face that accompanied the impending second lightning delay, and let’s just say I picked the wrong line. Twice.

—

As I readied myself to hit my tee shot, I saw the tournament director driving backwards up the cart path, so I stepped away. It was obvious that he was about to blow the horn for our second weather delay, but he wasn’t quite ready. I could proceed.

So I stepped up to the ball a second time, only for five deer, startled by a clap of thunder, to come bouncing out of the woods. I backed away, smiled a little, then approached my tee shot for a third time.

As I started my backswing, one final deer pranced right over the back of my tee box. I chuckled aloud, stepped away one more time, and took a deep breath.

On my fourth approach, I actually, finally got to hit the ball. It did not clear the river. I re-teed my ball, steadied myself, then put another one in the river. And then the horn sounded.

—

I sat in the clubhouse for about an hour, knowing that I had to go back out, still on the tee box, and hit my 5th shot (including penalty strokes). It wasn’t the most pleasant hour of my life. An old friend of mine that works at the course kept me company, and by the end of the weather delay, I was laughing like nothing had happened.

When the skies cleared, I went back to the 17th tee, hit one so far away from any trouble that I had over 200 yards left into the hole. I hit a decent one to the fringe, then proceeded to take four more shots to get it in the hole.

When it rains, it pours.

—

That ten on hole 17 did not put me in last place, but it was close. I was disappointed for a minute, then somehow managed to enjoy the car ride home AND that entire evening with my family. I guess that’s all the work I’ve been doing. Not on golf. On myself.

Bad days happen, and there’s always another chance tomorrow. The following day I started on a par 5 and hit driver, 3 wood to ten feet. I narrowly missed the eagle, but tapped in for birdie. It was a beautiful day as a part of a beautiful journey.

Until three hours later when it started pouring again.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

Join the abk community!

Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.

“Somehow, in the structure, there’s a lot of flexibility.”- Hildur Gudnadottir

Moving to a new locale. Starting a new career. Having another child. Pursuing a PhD in golf. Pursuing countless interests. Individually, these are all things that would require finding a new flow to life. How about doing all of them at once? It’s taken roughly four years of adapting and trial and error, but the rhythm of a year, though I’m sure it will morph again, has been found.

—

From Valentine’s Day to my birthday in mid May, I feel like an accountant during tax season. It’s madness. (I worked roughly twelve hours on my birthday.) It’s golf all the time. Our beautiful course has become insanely popular. I run a robust PGA Jr league in addition to my normal lessons. I practice and play as much as my energy levels allow. As a result, I’ve learned to schedule nothing else.

—

From my birthday to early August aka now, it’s jet ski season. It’s boating and fishing season. It’s island time. It’s hot. We live a lob wedge from The Gulf of Mexico.

It’s also summer vacation and championship golf time. Two of the biggest tournaments I play in are in June and July, respectively, and the heat combined with a slowdown at the golf course allow for me to really dial in my game. Chicago with the family and a work trip to the Dallas area highlight this year’s summer break.

—

From mid August to the holidays, it is the absolute best time of the year. Where do I even begin? Football, so many sports going on, sports betting at the casinos. Did I mention football? The autumn vibe, fall golf, another PGA Jr League. The fall is busy at the course, but not all day long busy. I live in SEC country. Fall mornings are for golf. After noon it’s all football.

And how about the 2nd Annual Opening College Football Weekend with my son? Last year’s Indy/Purdue/Notre Dame/Ann Arbor/Detroit trip was awesome but is likely to be outdone by this year in Los Angeles. Talk about starting your own traditions.

Last year, we had a late fall extended family trip to Paradise Pointe. The plan this year is New York City.

—

I enjoy the holidays, but then from the holidays to Valentine’s Day, it’s the NBA, Pelicans basketball, and nights in New Orleans. I was concerned when we left Charlotte that Hornets games with my son couldn’t be replaced. Boy, was I wrong.

—

Spring, summer, fall, winter. School year, summer break. The local community, flavor, and traditions.

All of these things guide life’s rhythm, but remember to make that rhythm your own.

Own your life story. Even if that means delaying your birthday celebration for ten days so that you don’t fall asleep in your food.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

Join the abk community!

Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.

“…unintended consequences are frequently the way we catch a real glimpse of ourselves in the mirror.” -Wright Thompson

Six years ago yesterday and unbeknownst to me at the time, I formally launched a journey of self-mastery, masked as a fashion blog called anything but khakis ®️.

Fast forward six years (and one day), and I am still on that journey of self-mastery, only the fashion blog is long gone, and the real journey is now masked by the green grass and hot sun of a golf course in coastal Mississippi.

—

If I wanted to live a complete life to my maximum potential, I had to go all in. I had to try things I had never even thought about trying. I had to try difficult things where the risk of failure was sky high. If I wanted to ever find my true potential, I had to test myself. I figured that the best chance I had of helping someone find THEIR true potential was to be able to sit with him or her and honestly say, Been there, done that.

I would like to think that I chose golf, but there is an ever so slight chance that golf actually chose me. The parallels between the game and my life are eerily similar. I mean, it’s just a game, but is it?

—

In my current teaching business, I conduct mostly individual one hour golf lessons , primarily to adults. I don’t know the exact percentage, but I’d say at least 40% of every lesson has nothing to do with golf. 60% golf, 40% humanity. I get as much out of the session as they do sometimes.

You may not know it, but so much of golf revolves around self-belief, trust, commitment, and physical, mental, and emotional stamina. Are we talking about golf here, or are we in a counseling session?

On my just over four year golf journey, as a microcosm within my six year life journey, I’ve had to tackle all of these human issues. I think that’s why I’ve gotten so much better at golf.

Early in the journey, I snapped my seven iron on a tree out of aggravation. A day or two later, I realized that not only was that immature, but it was also a terrible example for the growing number of folks that were beginning to look at me as a positive influence. Folks that I have the opportunity to help realize their own potential, both inside the game and elsewhere.

—

One of the reasons I love to teach so much is I love to understand what someone really wants and help them get there. One reason that I think my early exploits into teaching golf have been so successful is because of my unique path. I wasn’t a childhood golf prodigy. I thought the game was stupid. But from the ages of 36 to now 40, when either I chose golf or golf chose me, I grinded my ass off. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. I did the work. I needed to do the work. I will continue to do the work. It’s the game of a lifetime.

We are all on some kind of journey here. Many journeys are similar. Some are not. Some involve trying to be a better person. Some involve trying to get good at golf. Some involve trying to be a better person under the facade of trying to get good at golf.

So as I tell anyone that is a potential student, I don’t care if you are looking to break 70, 80, 90, or 100. Makes no difference to me. If you are willing to put in the effort, real effort, to get better, we are going to get along just fine.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

Join the abk community!

Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.

“You can choose a life of ease and comfort, or you can choose a life of service and adventure.”-Jeff Bezos

In fairness, I was informed from the jump that becoming a PGA member, or as I like to call it getting a PhD in golf, would be an enormous task. There would be no shortcuts. It would take a ton of time and effort. I would have to earn every inch.

Every now and again, someone interested in the program asks me how much work is involved. A lot, I say. A lot.

—

On Tuesday, my son had surgery on his toe, I had a dental appointment, and I took two PGA exams. Who would have ever thought going to the dentist would be the easiest, most pleasant part of the day?

The two PGA exams were the culmination of 17 months of grinding, and passing them would get me through Level 1 and on to Level 2. (It goes Qualifying Level, Level 1, Level 2, Level 3, Full PGA Member.) 215 questions over the span of three hours, my eyes were blurry and my brain was fried by the end.

But I passed.

—

When I started the golf journey just over four years ago, I had no idea where it might take me. I had no idea what was even available, quite frankly. But I knew one thing early on that I’ve repeated over and over. I had to learn how to play high level golf first, and then the golf world might open up.

For the first two years of the journey, while the perception may have been that I was horsing around playing golf, I was grinding my ass off to become a more than credible golfer. For the last two years of the journey, I have been grinding my ass off in additional ways: practicing, playing, learning how to run a golf course, teaching, coaching, and doing a boatload of outside work primarily on Mondays and Tuesdays, my days off.

I must say that the patience and discipline required is quite high. It’s both a simple and absurdly complex game that requires physical, mental, and emotional stamina moreso than any other sport I’ve ever played. I constantly debate whether raising kids, running marathons, or progressing along the golf journey is more difficult.

—

Level 1 is basically like your freshman and sophomore years in college. You have to show you are smart and well-rounded, so you take Marketing, Meteorology, and Badminton. For the past 17 months, I feel like I have taken every Intro To Golf class ever invented: teaching, coaching, business planning, and my favorite, growing grass. I kid, but seriously.

Now that I’ve passed Level 1, I get to specialize in my passion in Level 2, teaching and coaching. I formally signed up last night, but I plan to take a few week breather before I start back up. I know I’ll enjoy the learning, and I know I’ll enjoy my jaunt to Frisco, Texas, for a summer seminar. Most importantly, I know I’ll enjoy taking all of the things I’ll learn and applying it to all of my students’ games, as well as mine.

—

For all of the spiciness that I enjoy in my life, it has come down to boring words like process and patience to get to here and now. I want to be done with this by end of year 2024. Going from a 14 handicap golfer that didn’t know anything to a full PGA member in five and a half years would be pretty damn cool. It’s been an incredible journey. I anticipate it to continue to be an incredible journey.

But I’m over the bookwork on Mondays and Tuesdays. I’d rather write. I’d rather jet ski. I’d rather go to the dentist.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

Join the abk community!

Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.

“Don’t let anyone talk you out of your vision just because they can’t see it.” – T.I.

Any time someone discovers anything but khakis®️ for the first time, there inevitably is a conversation about pants. Some get it. Some don’t. But there is always at least a brief conversation about beige colored pants.

—

abk formally came into existence roughly six years ago, but the essence of abk has been brewing for probably three decades now. I just didn’t know it.

I remember being a teenager, and all I wanted was freedom. Freedom to make my own decisions. Freedom to pursue my interests. I didn’t want to be constrained by society’s prescribed pathway to a successful life.

I wanted to do my thing. I wanted to be me.

—

Fast forward twenty to twenty five years, and I finally got the courage and sense to actually do it. At thirty six (now forty) years old, I set out to rediscover (or discover for the first time) all of those things that I enjoyed doing, and then decided I would spend all of my time and energy actually doing them. I might even wear khakis while doing them if I liked.

So I did two things. First, I literally made a list of things that interested me or that I enjoyed. Second, I embarked on a pretty magical journey of DOING in an effort to discover even more interests and add to that list. I figured I might enjoy something at forty that I didn’t at twenty, and vice versa. My mom continues to be fascinated by all of the foods that I eat now that I never would have touched as a kid.

—

As I mentioned in my last piece, my list of interests is now getting out of control. On paper, I’m fighting whether to play golf or jet ski. I’m fighting whether to teach another lesson or have dinner with my family. I’m fighting being fit as a fiddle or enjoying those delicious shrimp and grits. I’m fighting whether to go explore new places or spend those vacation days visiting my parents.

Enter the essence of abk.

—

Because I like one of a kind excursions and limited edition fashion, I used to think abk was based on exclusivity. But I think now, more than ever, it’s actually based on inclusion. Involving as many activities, people, and places as I can in an effort to live a full and complete life. It has been awesome to find how all of these interests intertwine and overlap.

I try to make everything an immersive experience. When we make the quick ride over to New Orleans, it usually involves some member of the family, basketball, music, unique food, culture, and style. Every day of the golf journey involves learning, teaching, competing, nature, style, and lots and lots of people.

Hell, Christy and the kids even come eat lunch with me at the golf course now.

Hell, every now and then I even wear a pair of khakis.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

Join the abk community!

Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.

Every now and then, a problem comes along that, first of all, is not really a problem, and second of all, fits the phrase a good problem to have. For the past few months, I have found myself in this conundrum, and unfortunately, I am now at the point where I have to do something about it.

What’s the problem, you may be wondering?

I legitimately have too many interests.

—

Working to become a full PGA Member, or as I like to call it, getting a Ph.D. in Golf, is no walk in the park at any age. The sheer amount of work required is astronomical. I estimate that each week I help run a golf course for 40 hours, teach for 10 hours more, practice for 5-10 hours more, and play for 5-10 hours more. These are just the necessary bare minimums, and since I am doing this as a second career as a forty year old, don’t forget about the roughly 830 hours of outside portfolio work at night or on my days off. Or the 3 weeklong seminars, the 8-12 tournaments I play all over God’s Green Earth each year, the 2-3 quarterly junior camps, and a partridge in a pear tree.

This is enough to keep a twenty five year old with nothing but freedom busy, much less a forty year old with a young family and oodles of outside interests. I love it all immensely and sleep like a baby at night, but something has to give.

—

Family dinners, experiencing all 50 states (I’m at 44), sports trips with Banks, all of the aforementioned golf stuff, even mildly supporting Christy’s interests, jet skiing, keeping my body and mind fit, Banks’ soccer, mornings with Charli, nights in New Orleans, not frequent enough visits back to North Carolina, and maybe, just maybe, the occasional spicy date night.

The list could go on and on. On the plus side, I am never, ever bored. On the minus side, the jet ski is collecting dust.

—

For the better part of six years now, I have written a blog, article, or whatever you want to call it virtually every single week. Including this piece, that is 272 articles. I find the writing to be an incredible experience, but it does require a clear mind or the creative juices won’t flow. Most of my days now, my mind is concerned with wrist angles in the golf swing, the development of my children, where the best shrimp and grits on the coast is, when said date night might occur, and cleaning the cobwebs off of the jet ski. I sought to build a very robust life, which I have, and unfortunately, there is not much brain space left for creating a coherent weekly piece that I am proud of anymore.

Here’s what I am going to do. I love writing. I really do. But I’m not going to give up the actions that I write about so that I can write more. That makes no sense. So I’m going to keep taking notes, taking pictures, and taking videos. When I feel inspired and have a clear mind, I will write. An arbitrary goal is once or twice per month instead of weekly, but who knows.

As I said from the jump, the journey is about doing. About living a complete life fulfilling wants and needs, pursuing hopes and dreams, and limiting regrets when it comes to things I never got around to.

When the kids are grown and the golf swing has deteriorated, I will write more. I still have a lot to say, but for now, I have even more I want to do.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

Join the abk community!

Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.

“My dream is to become local everywhere…The places I am part of, I try to be like a local. It’s just the most beautiful feeling.”-Jose Andres

—

The first father son sports trip of 2023 both started and ended in New Orleans, Louisiana, but the main event was in Houston, Texas. Per usual, my eight year old son was immune to the details, excited to just get in the car and go.

For simplicity’s sake, the general outline of the trip was as follows: Trailblazers and Dame Dolla Lillard at Pelicans last Sunday night, Celtics and my son’s hero Jayson Tatum at Rockets Monday night, and the Lebron-less Lakers at Pelicans Tuesday night.

Seemed simple enough.

—

As it neared game time last Sunday night in New Orleans, it became apparent that Dame Dolla, aka the electric Damian Lillard of the Portland Trailblazers, was going to take the night off. Slightly annoyed, I pointed that out to my son and then tried to find a silver lining. The Pelicans rushed out to a huge lead thanks to shooting guard Trey Murphy III, and then all of a sudden it looked like he might have a career night. We hung on every three that he hit, over and over and over, until he closed in on forty points. Early in the fourth quarter, he made a back door cut and finished with a monster reverse jam as the crowd went bananas. 41 points, a new career high, and an electric performance to overshadow Dame’s absence was how we started our trip.

Then it was off to Baton Rouge.

—

At the hotel, I told my eight year old son Banks that there was a live tiger in front of LSU’s football stadium, and I couldn’t tell if he was excited or thought that I was an idiot. Regardless, our hotel was five minutes away from Mike the Tiger’s habitat, so off we went.

Mike was asleep when we arrived, but woke about ten minutes into our mulling about. What a beautiful creature and an unexpected detour to begin our jaunt over to Houston.

Banks knew that we were going to the Blazers game the night before, but he had no idea where we were headed Monday. He randomly guessed Cleveland, and I just giggled.

When we arrived in Houston, I had the hotel staff tell him where we were. Because he and I are serious NBA fans, he quickly realized that the Rockets had a game that night, they were hosting his beloved Celtics, and that’s why mom had sneakily packed all the green gear into his new suitcase. We hurried up to the room and he put on his gear from head to toe, excited about what might be in store for the next four hours before game time.

The next four hours before game time might possibly be some of the most memorable moments of any of our ever increasing father son sports trips. Guessing that the Celtics were staying about four blocks away at the Four Seasons, we walked over and voila! Banks got to see every single Celtic up close and personal, dapped up a few, and held a hilarious conversation with longtime Celtics ex-player and personality, Brian Scalabrine.

After about two hours of this, we walked back to the hotel and chilled for a few minutes before starting the brief walk over to The Toyota Center. As we made our way over, we had to walk through a beautiful park, and we both noticed a pickup soccer game going on. Banks looked at me like, Yo, we have to play. And so we did. After about twenty five minutes, I told him we needed to jet. When we arrived moments later out front of the arena, they had arcade basketball goals setup, and Banks looked at me like, Yo, we have to play. And so we did.

I was beginning to think that I had wasted a decent amount of money for damn good seats to the Rockets-Celtics game, but we eventually got in there. The Rockets wore their old school San Diego Rockets uniforms, which were spectacular. Jaylen Brown dropped 43 for the Celtics. The game went down to the final play, and the Celtics lost by two.

My son was pissed.

—

I awoke Tuesday morning to a sick son. My heart sank for him as he was in obvious discomfort. I wondered what was wrong, and in racking my brain, I quickly realized that we had eaten nothing but junk over the last 36 hours. I usually try to find great local joints everywhere we go, but due to our tiger, meet the team, soccer, and arcade basketball detours, we had only eaten nachos, popcorn, and ice cream, and it had torn my son’s stomach up.

I told him to just relax and that in a few hours, instead of tackling that day’s adventures, we would leisurely meander home. Prior to the sickness, we were going to tour Minute Maid Park, home of the World Champion Houston Astros, and then meet granddaddy in New Orleans for dinner and Lakers-Pelicans on the way home. Around 11am, we packed up and checked out, and as we rolled by the baseball stadium on the way out, a sports miracle occurred. He was healed!

On the bilingual tour at the stadium, he was like Dennis the Menace, clowning around with the tour guide like he hadn’t been vomiting just three hours before. We got to go down to the field and sit in the dugout, and I of course got an on field fitted cap to add to my collection.

We ate and drank blandly on the drive home, touch and go about whether dinner and Lakers would actually happen. As the day wore on, everyone decided we were a go. Everyone except rush hour Baton Rouge traffic. What a cluster.

We made it to Blue Oak BBQ in New Orleans in time for me to scarf down their incredible spicy chicken sandwich, and we got into our seats with one minute to spare. The Lakers whipped the Pelicans. Anthony Davis dropped 35. And my son inexplicably asked for more arena food.

So we had our first ever smoothie from Smoothie King at The Smoothie King Center. Strawberries and bananas instead of a hot dog.

—

As I mentioned, when we arrived in Houston, the valet out front of our hotel opened my door as is customary. I asked him to tell my son where we were. He looked confused, like why doesn’t your son know where he is. I told him that today was a surprise, and that he needed to know what city he was in and what kind of game might be going on down the street in a few hours.

I kid you not, the valet started tearing up. He mentioned to me that he and has dad had taken some memorable father son sports trips. He asked if we did this often, and I said as often as humanly possible. He asked if we would do more of these, and I told him absolutely.

So he told Banks that he was in Houston, home of the Houston Rockets. Without missing a beat, my son then told him that the Rockets were statistically the worst team in the NBA.

And the valet’s tears turned to laughter.

—

Have a great week.-Benj

Join the abk community!

Follow along on Instagram @anythingbutkhakis, @abkgolf, and @anythingbutkhakisphotography.

If you enjoy these and would like to get the weekly piece via email, please follow on the website http://www.anythingbutkhakis.com.