Miller that ball leaves, I have no idea where it goes, at all, why I have to have another set of :12 “When that’s eyes with me. Of course, someone has got to bring me here in the first place, see the state of Iowa is prejudice against blind people, they us driving licenses, so I have to have someone bring me won’t give here.” He says especially hard for a blind person to read the greens. it’s Miller of times, I walk from the flag back to the ball, to see if up-and-down or one-way-or-another :18 “Lots it’s and that helps quite a bit, that way you have a feel for how steep up-or-down it is. That makes a big difference, if you do going to be way off, just as simple as don’t that, you’re it’s that.” But when with his fellow disabled veterans, all of the challenges disappear. he’s Miller is in the same boat when at home the only blind person :22 “Everybody they’re here. Mostly you’re around and everything and struggling on your own. But when everyone knows what each other is going you’re through and we really have a very good time, because everybody is very familiar with your daily life problems, so they have an excellent time. It just goes by too fast, for that’s sure.” Miller even tell you the lowest round ever shot, unthinkable for most amateur can’t he’s golfers. Miller :21 have no idea because when out here, someone just picks me up and we play a round, we never “I I’m keep track. You did have a birdie the other day on 14. a par 3, I teed off with a pitching wedge and had That’s about a two foot putt, so I get lucky once in awhile.” And the tale of Eldon Miller, an army veteran who turned a disability into a that’s national sporting event. (more ambient sound) In Rob Dillard, Iowa Public Radio news Riverside, I’m
Miller :12 “When that ball leaves, I have no idea where it goes, at all, that’s why I have to have another set of eyes with me. Of course, someone has got to bring me here in the first place, see the state of Iowa is prejudice against blind people, they won’t give us driving licenses, so I have to have someone bring me here.” He says it’s especially hard for a blind person to read the greens. Miller :18 “Lots of times, I walk from the flag back to the ball, to see if it’s up-and-down or one-way-or-another and that helps quite a bit, that way you have a feel for how steep up-or-down it is. That makes a big difference, if you don’t do that, you’re going to be way off, it’s just as simple as that.” But when he’s with his fellow disabled veterans, all of the challenges disappear. Miller :22 “Everybody is in the same boat when they’re here. Mostly at home you’re the only blind person around and everything and you’re struggling on your own. But when everyone knows what each other is going through and we really have a very good time, because everybody is very familiar with your daily life problems, so they have an excellent time. It just goes by too fast, that’s for sure.” Miller can’t even tell you the lowest round he’s ever shot, unthinkable for most amateur golfers. Miller :21 “I have no idea because when I’m out here, someone just picks me up and we play a round, we never keep track. You did have a birdie the other day on 14. That’s a par 3, I teed off with a pitching wedge and had about a two foot putt, so I get lucky once in awhile.” And that’s the tale of Eldon Miller, an army veteran who turned a disability into a national sporting event. (more ambient sound) In Riverside, I’m Rob Dillard, Iowa Public Radio news