I was born in the Soviet Union, where golf was virtually unheard of. Back then, it was something we only glimpsed in Hollywood movies—or, if you were lucky, in a video game. I still remember one summer day when my friends and I decided to invent our own version of mini-golf. We played between apartment buildings on a dried-out dirt patch where we usually played soccer. Using sheer guesswork—this was long before you could Google anything—we carved out a hole roughly the size of a real golf cup.

For the ball, we found a solid metal bearing about the size of a ping pong ball, and our putters were thin wooden planks salvaged from a pallet. You really had to whack that metal ball hard to get it rolling toward the hole. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours—and it was a blast.

Shortly after I came to the U.S., I picked up my first real golf club in 1999 at a driving range in Madison, CT. I remember launching balls with pure joy. That moment lit the spark. Tiger Woods was just starting to take over the golf world, which only added to the excitement. Although I didn’t fully commit to the game until 2005, I played nearly every day between 2005 and 2007, eventually breaking my first 80s.

Then life happened—I moved to NYC for my first office job, and golf had to take a back seat. The dream paused until 2016, when I picked it back up, encouraged by my amazing family, a good friend, and the energy of the Rio Summer Olympics.

Fast forward to today: I recently passed the PGA Playing Ability Test and am now working through the PGA coursework to become a certified teaching professional. I’m excited to share everything I’ve learned on this journey—from dirt patches in the USSR to professional fairways in the U.S.

Cheers to the journey ahead.