People who know me well are always frustrated by my golf analogies. A single conversation can result in two or three different golf stories that somehow, at least in my opinion, relate to the topic. The truth is, I believe golf is similar to life. I know that anyone can learn a lot about themselves and life lessons from just one 18-hole course. Being a regular player of the game myself, I can recite endless stories about how golf made me who I am. One day in particular, I made a decision that I realized would impact me for the rest of my life: to say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why violent video games should not be banned”?Get an original essayThe desire to impress took hold of me during my early years in sports. Everyone close to me wanted me to behave well, especially my father. I can't count the number of times I've written a four instead of a five, a five instead of a six, etc. I never really thought of it as cheating. I should have gotten a four. The putt just missed! This tree bothered me! Every time I played golf, I wanted to get the best score, whether I deserved it or not. After about a year, I found myself ready to play competitive golf. It would be a new animal. My father warned me that the competition would be tough and that it wasn't the same as a Saturday afternoon with friends. Come to find out he was right. My playing partners didn't want to talk to me; I could defiantly feel a negative presence. It was like they wanted me to hurt. This increased my desire to do well – to show these children who believed they could walk on water. Looking back, I feel terrible and it's embarrassing to admit it, but on the first day of that tournament I didn't shoot what my score indicated. . When I couldn't find my ball, instead of taking a ball or returning to the tee, I would hit a ball and place it in the grass when others weren't looking. I can't remember how many times the magic eraser came out to remove an "unnecessary" move. When I told my father my story of my first tournament round, he realized that the numbers didn't add up. I received a lecture. I knew it wasn't fair to the kids who followed the rules 100%, but I also knew there were other kids doing the same thing. My father helped me realize that becoming a better golfer and a better person meant always telling the truth, even when it's difficult. In order to improve as an athlete, I have to be honest with myself. The only person I was cheating on was me. This hit me hard. My father was right and I didn't want to disappoint him. I knew when I played my first good round of golf that I wanted it to be legit, but changes don't happen overnight. The next day was a perfect day for golf. It was the second round of the Antigua Milt Coggins Stroke Play tournament, and I was ready to try the idea of ​​counting every shot. I played pretty well for the first eight holes. I made my way to the ninth tee box, excited to complete a great front side. I left the clubface open at impact and sent my ball flying down the right side, sailing toward the out-of-bounds fence. I started to sweat. This could cost me a great top nine, and maybe a top 20. On my way back up, I found my ball under a tree. I breathed a sigh of relief and finished the hole. When I dove into the cup, I pulled out a ball with three red dots – my ball had two dots.