RIDE TO VICTORY
By Casey Martin

I was born with a very rare birth defect that has caused me pain all my life. Blood flows into my leg, but it doesn't flow out—at least not as quickly as it should. Only a handful of people in the country share my condition, and doctors say mine is one of the more severe cases.

And it's getting worse.

The defect, called Klippel-Trenauney-Weber Syndrome, causes extreme swelling in my leg, internal bleeding, and a ton of pain.

Since I was a baby, I've worn a long, elastic stocking that compresses my leg to reduce the amount of blood flowing into it. It stretches from the bottom of my toes to the top of my leg. Without the stocking, my leg turns black and blue and blows up like a balloon, the veins on my shin pop out, and I can't stand up for much more than a minute.

Before I go any further, I want you to know that I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm only sharing this because it's part of my story that I consider a great privilege to relate to you. I'm not hoping you'll feel sorry for me, because I certainly don't feel sorry for myself. In fact, the more I look back on my life, the more I realize how incredibly fortunate I've been.

As a child, my parents loved and cared for me beyond measure. Every need was met without question. And most importantly, Mom and Dad consistently demonstrated their deep love for God and made Him a priority in their life and in our home. Through the years, they taught me about His unconditional love for me and regularly told me that God had a wonderful plan for my life. Accepting that plan, though, was not always easy.

I remember lying in bed night after night, tucked under the covers with my eyes squeezed tight, praying, "Please, Lord, heal my leg. Please heal my leg."

The pain alone was reason enough for me to cry out to God. But it was also very hard for me to understand why I had this problem. It was particularly difficult when it came to trying to live the life of a normal kid.

My brother Cameron—two years older than me—was like most young boys. He loved sports. And whatever he did, I wanted to do. Basketball, football, soccer. That's where my heart was. But I couldn't play any of those sports. Then, when Cameron was seven years old, my dad taught him to play golf. Of course, I had to play too.

I fell in love with golf. It was entirely different from other sports. It was the only sport that would accommodate my condition. Finally, I could compete on the same level as everyone else. That's where I focused my energy and attention in the years to come.

I excelled at golf. I loved the challenge. I loved the competition. And after graduating from high school in 1990, I went to Stanford University to play college golf.

There my golf game continued to improve.

My leg, however, did not.

Walking the golf course became increasingly difficult. A sharp pain would stab through my shin—a new pain I'd never felt before.

After two years of walking and carrying my bag like all the other college players, I petitioned the NCAA and the PAC-10 Conference for a cart. They granted permission, allowing me to ride my junior and senior years. This relieved some of the stress on my leg, as well as some of the pain, but the added attention on me was humbling. It made me wish even more for a healthy leg.

About this time, I had a conversation with a friend of mine named Nicole that triggered a dramatic change in the way I looked at my condition—and my life.

"I was reading my Bible the other day," Nicole said, "and I thought of you."

"Really?" I was curious. "What did you read?"

"It was in John, chapter nine," Nicole answered while thumbing through her Bible. "Mind if I read it?"

"Go ahead."

"As Jesus went along," she began, "He saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked Him, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?' "

I could already see the connection. The disciples were asking Why?—like I had for so many years. Nicole continued. " 'Neither this man nor his parents sinned,' said Jesus, 'but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.' "

I sat still, taking it in.

"You know," Nicole looked up from her Bible, "I really think this applies to your life."

Later, I read the passage of Scripture myself. I noticed that it goes on to say that the blind man's "eyes were opened." That's exactly how I felt. My eyes were opened.

God must actually have a reason for this birth defect, I thought. I shouldn't be bummed out about it. He has a plan that's greater than what I can see. He's going to use it—one way or another—for His glory.

I set my sights on a career in golf believing that's what God wanted me to do.

After graduation, I turned professional and decided to play on the mini-tours for a couple of years and give it my best shot. I played on the Hooters Tour and the Tommy Armour Tour in 1996 and 1997. I was allowed to ride in a cart during the practice rounds and pro-ams but not in competition. To help keep up my strength and minimize the pain in my leg, I played a reduced schedule.

But my leg seemed to be getting worse with every round.

The fact is, it was getting worse. Doctors said it was deteriorating. The inflammation around my shin was eating away at the bone. That's what caused the pain in my shin that I first felt in college.

To this day, the bone is getting weaker and weaker. They aren't sure exactly how strong the bone is, but the doctors say I run a high risk of breaking it. If that happens, my leg will have to be amputated.

At that time I tried not to worry about it, but it was definitely in the back of my mind—wondering how long my leg will last.

By the end of that summer, I knew I had to make a decision, because time was running out. I decided to give it one last shot at the PGA Tour Qualifying Tournament for the 1998 season. Although I played well enough to squeak into the finals in Haines City, Florida, there was one problem. They didn't allow players to ride a cart during competition.

I petitioned the PGA Tour for a cart, but they said no. I knew my best chance for a career in golf would be if I could ride a cart. I had to face the problem at some point--and the sooner it was resolved, the better. So through a temporary court injunction, I was granted permission to use a cart during the competition.

My game took a big turn. I played really well—better than I ever expected. I missed my PGA Tour card by two shots, but I received an exemption to play on the Nike Tour (now the Buy.com Tour). Suddenly, I went from almost quitting golf to full steam ahead. I was really amazed.

The temporary court injunction also allowed me to use a cart in the first two Nike Tour tournaments, until my case could go to trial. The controversy over my case stirred the media. I was getting calls from Peter Jennings, USA Today, newspapers and magazines from across the country. My story was everywhere.

Then in January, I arrived in Lakeland, Florida for the first Nike event. I received more attention than I could ever imagine. I didn't know what to expect from my game. I was just hoping I wouldn't blow up and play terrible. Although I felt a little self-conscious in the first round, I found myself relaxed and under control. To my astonishment, I shot 66 and was leading the tournament. The pressure kept building as more and more attention turned in my direction, and I just tried to stay focused. I shot 69-65-69 to win the tournament. It was a complete surprise.

But it was not "just the beginning," as they say.

Although the tournament at Lakeland went my way, and then the court case too—so that I was allowed to ride a cart for the past two years—these two seasons were a struggle for me. I didn't win again, and I missed a lot of cuts to start 1999.

But then things came together last summer, and I finished second in Cleveland and Omaha. And in November, I reached the goal I've had all this time: I finished well enough in the Nike Tour Championship to secure my place in the Top 15 on the Nike Tour—and my spot on the PGA Tour for 2000.

But being the center of attention and trying to deal with all these issues has caused me to pray a lot just about my game. I've been crying out to the Lord to be my strength as far as golf and my attitude are concerned. I know that with my kind of situation, I've been given a platform that most guys don't have. For a first-year Tour player, I'm awfully well recognized. So I've been given a platform in that way, and I try to share my faith. I don't try to preach, but at the same time I definitely try to give credit to the Lord, because I feel strongly that that is why I'm here.

It's almost shocking to me to think that I made it after last year, because I was kind of in the depths, in the dumps, to be honest. It's a testimony to God's faithfulness that way.

And whatever God has for me, I know it will be for His glory and my good. I can look back on it all with great thankfulness, knowing that God did it.

It's been the ride of my life.

This article originally appeared in the Links Letter, April 2000.

CASEY MARTIN

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