Blog: Story of an amateur: the true meaning of sport

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Scotland is a country where history and sport marry perfectly, in a kaleidoscope of colors, grass and immortal memories. Between castles and small peat dunes, every inch of land still breathes the same air of distant ages. The Middle Ages still seems to be relevant in this region where, if you look closely, you can still see old blazons of forgotten families, lost lords, scattered classes. But if you refine your ear even better, if you try to silence for a moment the incessant course of your thoughts, you can still hear a strange rustle. Like a whiplash, a stick that gently strikes the wind, constantly searching for something, the perfect shot, the shot of an abnormal sword, not created to hurt, but to dream. And if you follow this sound, if you leave a little more useless logic in its silence, you will be able to conquer the slippery slope of time and look beyond. Looking towards the horizon where, just before having a glimpse of the sea line, there is still a magnificent field. If you are lucky and if the day is clear enough, in this area you can also see it. There, in the middle of these long and beautiful fairways, among some puddles of sand and marshy ponds, you can see a man in shirt and bow tie. He holds in his hands a golf club, the origin of that sound he wanted to follow, even if you did not know why. It is only a man who, in this repeated gesture, seems to be looking for something. As if trying to be one with the field around him, the bat in his hands, the sky above his head. Even with you, you look helpless, unable to look away from this continuous gesture. And then when he finally finds it, you can see it too. You can see the perfect swing and see the essence of a passion we still call sport today.St. Andrews Camp is one of the most famous golf courses in the world. This is the oldest, but it is above all the track on which Bobby Jones, one of the greatest golfers and sportsmen in historyhe has built his own story. Bobby Jones. Few people still alive may say they saw him play. In his day, television still did not exist. Even the few videos he has made about his actions do not do him justice. Bobby Jones was indeed a true living legend, intended to transcend the boundaries of time, as do a few others in the history of sport. A man who not only has beautifully played golf, but who he was playing golf. In his career, he won the so-called Grand Slam, or the conquest of the four most important tournaments of the same year. But what is extraordinary, and that many still today are surprised to discover, is that Bobby Jones did everything to amateur. Unlike many of his opponents, like the famous Walter Hagen, who challenged in many competitions, theman with the perfect swing he was not a professional but a simple lover. In a world like today, such a thing would be unthinkable to say the least. To tell the truth, it would have been the case at the time in a sport loved and already spread like golf. Being an amateur, then like today, meant not having sponsors or funds to support you economically behind your back. The only products you can enjoy are the ones you need to sweat on the ground. If you lose, you go home empty-handed. To prepare, one had to find the time after a long day of work, when it was dark and the forces were scarce after hours spent in the factory or behind a desk. If you have the chance to win something, maybe the money you won has allowed you to register for the next tournament and maybe a newspaper has been talking about you for a while. When luck did not please you, there was no soul ready to cheer you up, not even a good Samaritan who patted your shoulder. and All this for what? For a passion? Already, a great passion, that of sport.

Today we use the word amateur to describe an inexperienced person, of inferior in a determined discipline. But every word says exactly what it wants to communicate, beyond what people think, how times and even cultures change. The amateur is the one who is joy, whoever does something for simple pleasure without a second goal. It is therefore he who cultivates a strong passion, spends time there, steals it from the rest of his life. We do not know why. There is no profit to such a practice, there is no real goal. Yet when amateur enter this beloved ground, when he catches his bat, his ball or whatever his passion implies, the world seems to be changing around him. This thing happens without seeming useful, it is the most important of his life, the only one that has a real meaning. And this precisely because it has no purpose, has no gain, has no objective that does not exceed the same passion.
To be an amateur simply means that: to practice a passion to be able to feel it, to be able to search for something that we do not even know, but who is there, somewhere, in us.

In the 1930s, there were golf champions around the world. Many of them, like the previous Walter Hagenthey had sponsors and banks ready to finance them just to hit the ball. And they won, okay if they won, for God's sake. They were not professionals at all. And yet, no one has managed to attract crowds like this long blond boy. When Bobby Jones touched the field, especially if it was the St. Andrews he hated and loved so much, it seemed like the same tides, sunsets, hills and the seasons themselves were on the horizon to observe it. Observe his perfect swing, a shot in which the power of a whole passion of thickening in one moment, an infinitesimal singularity. In her, silent and powerful, there was the essence of what it means to play sports, what it means to do something just because you love it. the amateurism it's the true heart of the sport, what makes it move, what shapes it, what gives it a reason to be. Although we can constantly forget, especially when the sport is the bed of a river filled with money, the sport itself never forgets it. And QIn this strike, this perfect shot, if we look closely, we can find it in a child who plays in the field of the oratory, during the break after work while friends take a walk. It can appear wherever passion is true and unconditional, just as sport should be true and unconditional.

There was a time when a amateur how Bobby Jones seduced the world with his swing. He could win, he could lose, he could rejoice, he could get angry. But each time, his swing was worth more than the price of the ticket. That's because he played golf just because he loved the sport. And he felt in his tracks. Something that can not be communicated and, perhaps, it's a good thing that today's cameras, with their ultra-high definition effects, have not resumed. Because if it were not so, we might not be able to take advantage of this dull sound. The whip of his stick, his passion that crosses the air, his immortal spirit that furrows the fields of the whole world. His story is told not only by books or biographers, but even by wind and plants. We can hear this story if we want it.
There have not been many true champions like him, but there will probably be more. Until someone hits a ball, he will run on a track, move a stick simply for pleasurebecause he wants it, because he loves it, so maybe a new Bobby Jones, whatever his sport or practice, will come back to applaud and excite this world.

You applaud the player, you envy the professional, you dare the amateur!

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