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Next month, Se Ri Pak is going to be inducted into the World Golf Hall of Fame. Maybe then her father will finally lay off the extreme training tactics, which have included, in no particular order:
- taking her to pit-bull fights
- training her in cemeteries
- & in freezing weather until icicles formed in her hair
- reprimanding her with a stick called a pechori
- making her climb 15-story staircases–backward & forward
In a 1998 NYTimes profile of Pak & Pak, an incident at one of Se Ri’s first tournaments is described:
When she was a sophomore in high school in Taejon, Pak played in the Golf Digest Cup tournament. On the first day of the tournament, her father, Joon Chul Pak, saw several parents of young golfers talking. He approached them to say hello.
‘’They completely ignored me,'’ he said recently. ‘’I guess my daughter and myself didn’t seem like much to them, because of their high social status. So I called Se Ri in front of the trophy and handed it to her, saying, ‘This is yours.’ The others looked at me as if I was some crazed lunatic. So I screamed back: ‘So what if I touch it! My Se Ri is going to take it home with her anyways!’ Se Ri nodded in agreement. Later, she did take the trophy back home with her.'’
Some kids don’t mind having their parents involved in their sporting affairs, but I was never one of them; I’d always give my parents the wrong times or just plain make them promise they wouldn’t show up. I had plenty of friends whose parents became backseat drivers at events, and the outcomes were usually profoundly embarrassing–if not career damaging–for the kids. Anyone out there ever have a parent for a coach, or a “coach”?
Comments (3)
Comment
When I told my Dad I wanted to quit Boy Scouts he told me no. He told me I would keep going, he signed up as an Assistant Scoutmaster, then as a Scoutmaster. At the time I was frustrated by it, but in after a few months I was glad he made me stick through it. I ended up becoming an Eagle Scout thanks to him.
posted by Witty Nickname on 10-18-2007 at 6:58 am
Picture it, 1967. My “father” (who I barely remember and NEVER played any sports with) signed me up for a little league tryout. He was the umpire. I had never seen a baseball game in my life, never even held a baseball or wore a glove. But he puts me out there and tells me to play. Ball comes to me, i watch it role by me. He yells, calls me stupid, walks away. This goes on for a while.
Never played the game again and fortunately, barely ever saw my father again. Haven’t liked sports at all since then.
posted by Sheldon Siegel on 10-18-2007 at 9:34 am
I was a very good football player in high school, but my father was pushing me so hard that when it came time to go to the college level I sabotaged it just to get away from the pressure of playing ‘for him’. I really hate I missed the opportunity to play at that level, but it was too much.
posted by Walt Lynwood on 10-18-2007 at 2:59 pm