Becoming "Dad"

For the author and his daughter, the Father & Daughter Invitational in Ireland was life-changing

Matt Ginella

Apr 29, 2024

As we made our way down the second fairway, the crisp Irish breeze was into us, and at times it felt like it was going through us. A lanky young lady had just topped a shot and as it dribbled past me, working its way in the general direction of the green, I could see she had tears in her eyes. It was early, but it was obvious she had put a lot of pressure on herself to play well and that she was missing the point of why we made the trip; why we were “competing” in the event. It was time for a hug and her first Guinness.

I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to be a teenager in 2024, and especially a young woman. Raising one has its ups and downs, and there are times when we all feel sideways. Her mother and I are relentlessly loving and supportive. We shield and nudge, talk and listen, and, if in doubt, hug. And believe it or not, there are even some smiles and laughs sprinkled throughout the adventure.

Kaili will celebrate her 20^th birthday any day now. She’ll put in her rearview mirror those teen years, which included a pandemic and multiple moves, one of which was from Florida to California. She’ll officially leave our house soon as she transitions from a local junior college to a traditional college experience. More pep talks and nudging will transpire between now and then. But eventually she will leave the nest.

It's time. Her mother and I are absolutely sure of that now. That conviction came last summer, when Kaili and I played in Carr Golf’s 15th annual Father & Daughter tournament at Waterville, in Ireland. Her mother Katie and our youngest, Bandon, 6, tagged along.

This was Kaili’s first long trip out of the country. This was her first golf tournament. She has long owned a set of clubs and enjoyed the occasional bucket at the driving range. She’s athletic, having grown up playing hockey, which sharpened her competitive instincts and hand-eye coordination. When she connects on the driving range, it goes. And more often than not, it goes straight. But Kaili’s not what would be described as a “golfer.”

None of which mattered as it relates to playing in the Father & Daughter. And that’s something I can’t emphasize enough as I write in celebration and admiration of this event and the impact it had on all of our lives and relationships.

Yes, it’s a golf tournament. And there were definitely legitimate golfers playing in the event, both fathers and daughters. And yes, there were trophies and medals for the winners of several categories. And the names of those winners were etched onto the trophies, deservedly so. Across three rounds on a world- class links course, there was wind, rain, high rough and zippy greens. And although our names earned no etching that week, the growth we both enjoyed—for me, as a father, and for Kaili, as a daughter—and the memories we made as a family are what really mattered most. And it’s not even close.

Kaili, by definition, is my step-daughter. I met her mother when Kaili was 10, going on 30. It was Kaili who sat me down and explained to me what I had to do, the person I needed to be, in order to get her OK to date her mom. A little over a year later, I didn’t ask my wife’s father for permission for Katie’s hand in marriage, I asked Kaili. Who, thankfully, gave me the green light.

I got close with Kaili quickly. So close she went through the legal process to change her last name to Ginella. Yet another emotional and meaningful moment for all involved.

And yet it is the Father & Daughter that cemented our relationship forever.

To make that trip to Ireland, to be immersed in that culture, to gawk at the beauty of the emerald countryside, to sip a Guinness and actually take a shot at the Shebeen, to stand around a piano and sing songs with other fathers and daughters, to take a dip in the North Sea to rinse away what might be considered a hangover, and to bond over each other’s successes and laugh at each other’s failures was the growth we all needed at that time in our lives.

Going back to that second fairway on the first day of the tournament, I waited for Kaili to walk beside me as we made our way to the ball she had just dribbled. I gently explained to her that this trip, the tournament, was about everything but the golf itself. That yes, we would be playing golf, but the results of our shots, our final score, did NOT matter. We would give it our best effort and we’d hopefully get better and that we’d feel good about our progress as “golfers,” but this trip was about being together as a family. It was important for her to know that this experience was more about the camaraderie than the competition. As Kaili and I talked, and she wiped away her tears, her mother raced back to the clubhouse. By the third green, we were all sipping Guinness. What’s commonly referred to in Ireland as “mother’s milk.”

Sláinte!

Kaili relaxed, and so did I. From that point forward, we had fun. (Mind you, the drinking age in Ireland is 18, and she was 19.)

Kaili got better with almost every swing from that second fairway until the last putt on the last green. She had been given a handicap of 24. Waterville’s 18^th hole is a par 5, and Kaili was getting a shot. She hit a big drive, a nice fairway metal and a beautiful iron onto the green in regulation. She had roughly a 15-foot putt for birdie/net eagle. After a lengthy dissertation on the break, in which lots of eyes and opinions were involved, she hit her putt…and it was tracking… and somehow it hovered on the edge of the cup. It was Tiger’s chip on 16 at Augusta, except the ball never dropped. Mel Maclaine, the tournament photographer, just happened to get the sequence in which Kaili, me, the caddie and her little brother all watched and ultimately collapsed when it didn’t go in. Par, net birdie. Still a damn-good score.

We picked ourselves up, had another hug, and we were off to celebrate the week together. More Guinness, singing, dancing and laughing.

I want to thank Marty Carr, who has two daughters, and Jimmy Layden, who has three daughters, for starting the Father & Daughter in 2008. The first year there were nine teams. That included two teams of Carrs and two teams of Laydens. In 2023, there were 40 teams from five countries. So many memories have been made.

I should note here that Kaili has always called me “Padre.” I believe she’d tell you that’s because, by definition, I’m not her dad. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have a relationship with her birth father. But it’s also because I’m a fan of the San Diego Padres.

Last week Kaili and a friend went off to Coachella, the music festival in the desert. (She’s also been with pals to New York and Boston, none of which would’ve happened without the social growth she enjoyed during that week in Waterville.) Kaili, among many things, is an incredible artist, designer and seamstress; she made her own clothes to wear for Coachella. As I said to her mother, and I’m sure any dad would agree, I thought the clothes were amazing, I just wish she would’ve doubled the amount of material she used. Anyway, at one point I called her to check in, to make sure she was OK. She answered! Which I couldn’t believe. It was loud.

I yelled into the phone, “ARE YOU OK?! I’M JUST CHECKING IN, MAKING SURE YOU’RE ALIVE!”

She yelled back, “I CAN’T REALLY HEAR YOU! I’M OK AND WE’RE HAVING FUN!!!”

It was clear that’s all I was going to get from that conversation, it made no sense to keep trying to shout into the phone. But before she hung up, her friend must’ve asked, “Who was that?” To which I faintly heard Kaili reply: “It was my dad.”

Click. Tears. I heard it. Felt it. I’ll never forget it. She called me Dad. And the truth is, we never would’ve gotten to that point without the trip last summer to the Father & Daughter.

I’ve covered a lot of golf tournaments in my career and been to some of the greatest golf destinations all over the world. There is nothing quite like the Father & Daughter.

And there is no one like Kaili Ginella.