How blind golf helped a Nashville man escape a ‘permanent state of loss’ — and change lives

BRENTWOOD, Tenn. — Chad NeSmith and Malachi Johnson are entranced by the same game.

THUMP.

Though neither of them could see the patch of grass travel through the air from Johnson’s iron blade, they could hear it.

“Now what do you think you did wrong there?” NeSmith asks.

“Lost my balance?” an uncertain Johnson asks back.

“You lost your balance,” NeSmith says.

“Try it again.”

NeSmith, known by most as “Doc,” stands with his arms crossed at Brentwood Country Club, his blue-chromed glasses fixated on his student, waiting for another swing.

WHOOSH.

This time, he hears something different. The sound is compact. It’s harmonious. It’s right.

“There it is! Outstanding Malachi! Dead straight,” NeSmith says with a wide smile. “Once you figure out ‘I’m gonna swing and never miss,’ you’re going to start swinging with so much confidence.”

Golf has become a source of freedom for NeSmith that he never would have envisioned when he lost his eyesight as a teenager. His journey has taken him from adolescent boy, unsure about his future, to a 51-year-old man who’s certain about his purpose: mentoring young people with impairments such as his.

Johnson, 13, is his latest student, who came to him after rapidly losing almost all of his vision in 2020. He was playing basketball as recently as December. But over the summer, he was taking lessons from NeSmith, a national-champion blind golfer, despite never having played the sport before becoming visually impaired.

“When I’m on the golf course playing,” NeSmith said, “I actually forget I’m blind.”

How NeSmith lost his sight

NeSmith was destined to be an athlete. Growing up in Cullman, Alabama, as a staunch Crimson Tide fan, he had his life figured out.

He’d become a high school quarterback, play Division I college football and get drafted into the NFL. If the final part of that plan didn’t work out, he’d just become a coach.

“I had nothing else in mind since I was 5 years old,” he said.

But … “That’s not what God wanted for me,” he said.

NeSmith began to notice his eyesight deteriorating when he couldn’t detect blindside hits in practice. He knew something was seriously wrong when he’d slam into trees while playing with his friends at dusk.

A visit to a doctor resulted in a diagnosis of retinitis pigmentosa, a genetic disorder that gradually causes vision loss. NeSmith was 12 years old, and there was no cure.

“Being blind is a permanent state of loss,” NeSmith said. “Just socially for me, it was a miserable time until, you know, 23, 24.”

NeSmith’s dreams of football stardom vanished.

With the help and support from friends and family, he eventually learned to carry on and attended the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa.

It was there that he met his wife, Patricia, and earned a PhD in counselor education, which allowed him to open and own a private clinic for 13 years, counseling families and children with learning disabilities.

With his work at the forefront, NeSmith’s athletic aspirations were all but forgotten until 26 years after his diagnosis. That’s when Patricia recommended he try playing golf.

NeSmith had never played, but he had tuned in to the Masters Tournament on TV on occasion.

NeSmith, a lefty, struggled at first. But his competitiveness unlocked something inside of him that he hadn’t felt in decades.

“I’m looking to feel that internal harmony that goes off when you hit a perfect golf shot,” NeSmith said. “It’s a wonderful feeling of accomplishment because you know … you did it without being able to see the ground.”

How does blind golf work?

Imagine lining up to hit a 20-foot putt. Or try reading a slope of a green while determining how hard to hit it.

Now imagine doing it with your eyes closed.

NeSmith does this every time he plays.

“Blind golf is an absolute sanctuary,” he said. “Because when you’re playing golf, whether you’re sighted or unsighted, it’s about you and hitting that golf ball.”

With the help of a guide or coach, blind golfers play a course just like anyone else, with one exception: blind golfers can ground their clubs in a bunker, allowing the club to rest against the sand and the ball while preparing to swing.

The guide helps paint a picture of how to play each hole. The guide also helps the player set their stance and position the clubface for a perfect shot.

“It’s a team sport, he has to have a good coach,” Patricia said. “There has to be a rapport between them, and the coach has to learn how to keep him safe.”

NeSmith, whose best score is 79, has spent countless hours perfecting his swing. He made his breakthrough in 2016, when he won the U.S. Blind Golf National Championship in Sarasota, Florida, in the first tournament he played.

NeSmith felt a child-like “happiness for months,” he said.

He repeated as champion the next year, but the joyful rush didn’t last. He leaned on Patricia for help.

Three-time national champion blind golfer Chad NeSmith speaks with Malachi Johnson, who has lost the ability to see, and his mother Joy Greene Clopton at the Brentwood Country Club. Photo by Alan Poizner/Nashville Tennessean

“I asked my wife, I said, ‘You know, I just won the second time, but it’s already gone. You know, what’s the deal?’” he said. “She said, ‘You’re doing it for you. You’re not doing it to better anyone else.’”

NeSmith had an epiphany.

He recalled the social and mental challenges he faced as a boy growing up blind. And he wondered how different his life would have been if someone handed him a golf club as a young teen in Alabama.

The solution was the formation of a non-profit: A Vision in Darkness, which seeks to help visually impaired children by introducing them to golf.

“I wish somebody would have given me a club at 13 and said, ‘Hey, I think you can play golf,’” NeSmith said. “Because who knows, I mean, it could have been a game changer for me emotionally.

“That’s what we’re trying to do now. … I want to keep passing the message out there to folks that blind golf is something that can save your life.”

‘Doc’s been an answer to a prayer’

Candice Green Clopton, who goes by Joy, discovered blind golf from a friend. She called NeSmith in May after Malachi Johnson — her son — lost almost all of his eyesight to a genetic condition called Leber hereditary optic neuropathy.

Through his non-profit, NeSmith invited Johnson to Brentwood Country Club for a lesson. Johnson came back for another lesson, then another one a week later.

They began meeting every week over the summer, with Johnson improving each week and his mother serving as his guide.

“(Doc’s) helped Malachi open up his eyes and see, just because you’ve lost your sight doesn’t mean anything,” Clopton said. “‘It just gives him that hope of his own, and somebody he can relate to, that he can look up to that inspires him.”

“I feel like (Doc) has been an answer to a prayer,” added Pearlette Kinnard Green, Johnson’s grandmother.

Because of his commitment, NeSmith awarded Johnson with his first set of clubs. Johnson hopes he can play at NeSmith’s level in time.

“Just to win a couple of tournaments,” Johnson said with a smile. “Probably more than him.”

More than just a golf coach

The relationship between NeSmith and Johnson is more than just golf coach and student. It’s also life coach and friend.

Johnson confides in NeSmith, asking questions such as, “How do I use my cane?” and “What was school like for you?” and “Will I be able to go to college?”

NeSmith laughs at the last question and assures Johnson that his time in college will be a breeze compared to his “old-school” ways of having tutors read him his textbooks.

“You’ll be able to, no problem,” NeSmith says.

Johnson smiles.

After the exchange, NeSmith and Johnson stand and head back to the Brentwood Country Club driving range just before closing.

Johnson has more golf balls to hit, and NeSmith has more harmony to find.

Victor Prieto is a sports reporting intern at the Tennessean. Contact him at vprieto@gannett.com or follow him on Twitter @victorprieto_11.