May 17, 2008 -- PGA Professional Chip Sullivan is making history this week and sending his personal account of being the first reigning PGA Professional National Champion to compete in the Japan PGA Championship, May 15-18. Sullivan is the PGA Director of Golf at Ashley Plantation in Daleville, Va.,

Being someone who travels quite a bit, I get used to having luggage delayed, or lost.

Whereas my luggage showed up on time this week, it seems that my "game" hadn't arrived by the time I teed off on Thursday or Friday.

Stop the presses, folks. My game showed up Saturday!

I started my third round par-par-bogey. Nothing spectacular. I thought my short game was probably still hanging in customs at the airport.

Then, I encountered the winds of change.

After a successful day on the course, Chip Sullivan has also made quite an impression outside the ropes. (Photo: Japan PGA)

Saturday is notoriously known as "moving day" in tournament golf. I made quite a move for myself, starting on the 4th hole. I finished the rest of the way 6-under-par, posting a 67.

Now I am sitting tied for 23rd, two shots out of a top-10 finish.

Walking off the green, I was once again surrounded by Japan PGA officials, new friends, and reporters. However, this time (as opposed to Friday, when I made the cut by the skin of my teeth) the crowd was not only congratulating me, but also picking their jaws up off the ground. I answered one question over and over again:

"How can a club professional come over here and actually COMPETE?" How can a PGA Professional convince them that they belong out here with the "REAL" players"?

I don't know about the Mike Smalls and Tim Thelens of the world, but those questions trigger me to lick my chops.

One of my personal goals this week was to show the world that PGA Professionals can PLAY. We grow the game by not only teaching the game and nurturing the business of golf, but also by how we carry ourselves when we serve as PLAYING AMBASSADORS.

As of today, I feel pretty good about how I have accomplished my goal. I shared with the reporters how PGA Professionals are masters of their craft. I also shared the extensive playing résumés that any PGA of America members hold, and how the top 20 members in our organization are given, annually the chance to compete against the world's elite players in our own PGA Championship.

Satisfied with the narratives I provided, the reporters ushered me off to a quick lunch. Within 30 minutes of completing my round, I was on my way to assist in a Junior Clinic.

Several players were assisting in the clinic. Being an experienced junior instructor, I was eager to lend a helping hand.

Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to help the juniors. THEY were the ones who were capable of teaching ME how to improve my game!

I have never seen so many young children (ages 6 to 12) with such amazingly sound fundamentals. Honestly, I could not offer them any advice. I became THEIR gallery, and I simply cheered and praised the children as they put on a demonstration like none other.

The work ethic of people in the Japanese culture is unrivaled around the world. Apparently, the children here approach their love of sports with the same fervor and dedication as the adults do their careers. It was an exciting privilege to watch the children play the game.

Adding to the excitement of the day, Japan PGA Tour Chairman Isao Matsui invited Tom (my caddie and father-in-law) to a formal dinner.

Along with Sandy (Satoru Sunagawa (of the Japan PGA), Tom and I joined Mr. Matsui and the officers and directors of the Japanese PGA at a traditional Japanese Izakaya restaurant. The dinner was a great honor, and has proved to be the highlight of my trip so far, in spite of today's 67.

The restaurant was just as I have seen in many movies featuring a Japanese setting. The rooms were large, divided by silk screens. One "party" of people dines in private amidst the screens.

The dining room itself was sunken, and we sat on cushions at knee-high tables. We were waited on with superior service, and we enjoyed delicacies such as soba, sashimi, tempura, teriyaki fish, and oden (boiled meats and vegetables).

Personally, the most memorable part of the evening was when the chairman toasted to me, as being the guest of distinction at the meal, and at the tournament itself.

When toasting in Japan, after raising your glass, the group customarily shouts "kung-pao", instead of "cheers". To hear these shouts of support, heralding my appearance in Japan, was a humbling experience.

When it came my turn to say "Kung-pao", I toasted to the brethren of our PGA's coming together, and to the pathways to the future which have been built this week.

While I offered kind words of thanks, Tom's offering came in the way of laughter for the group.

Upon entering an Izakaya restaurant, it is customary to remove one's shoes, and dine in stocking feet.

Leave it to Tom to not wear socks with his loafers tonight.

Thankfully, the honorary members of our dining party saw this as humorous, and not as disgraceful.

On the other hand, they weren't sitting next to Tom. It's hard to stomach eating raw fish while you are staring at your father-in-law's bare feet beside you!

I have found myself thinking on two opposite, yet parallel, planes this week.

On one side, I am over taken by the goodness of mankind. My mind thinks especially of the goodness of a nation of people whom I knew nothing about only three weeks ago.

The concept of my appearance of Japan as a "historical" event is a lot to bear. The pride within me is welling from a unique source. This "pride" is not like gained from playing well or winning a championship. It is something bigger than tangible, monetary, or statistical examples. It is a pride found only when you feel you have made a difference in the world around you. Somehow it's just hard to explain.

On the other side, I am thinking of a competitor. I am poised to gain my best finish ever in international golf, and possibly earn a substantial paycheck. My talent, supported by my intellect on the course, will determine the outcome.

However, my game is what brought me to this place of historical significance. Life truly does present itself as a full circle.

As I close today's blog, I am in my hotel room, inventorying the things I will need to pack tomorrow night before I head to the United States on Monday. I can't forget to pack the dolls I purchased for my children.

Daruma dolls, or dharma dolls, are modeled after the first Zen monk. They are a tradition in here in Gunma. The dolls have no eyes. So, a new owner of the doll must "make a wish" and paint ONE eye on the doll when it is presented to them.

Upon fulfillment of the wish, the owner colors in the OTHER eye of the daruma doll.

The dolls are usually round or egg-shaped. Because of their shape, when knocked over, daruma dolls will usually rebound into an upright position. This has led to daruma dolls becoming a symbol of optimism and persistence in the face of adversity.

Why did I buy three dolls without eyes? No, I am not trying to induce nightmares with my children. Maybe it's because I found some kind of similarity with those little weeble-wobbles.

I came to Japan, not knowing the language, culture, or even which direction was up. I was the first reigning PGA Professional National Champion to compete n the Japan PGA Championship. Making the world-wide journey, all I had to assist me was my caddie and my game.

Hopefully, when I leave, I will have made a permanent mark on the international relationship of two amazing organizations; The PGA of America and the Japan PGA.

Despite the remarkable people, one might be able to say that I was working under "adverse conditions".

My hope is that those I care about deeply and those I do not yet know, on both sides of the world, can say that just like a Daruma doll, I served as a symbolism of optimism and persistence.

I hope to have shown Optimism that our PGA's will continue to work together to grow the great game of golf around the world.

Now, I hope to have shown Persistence to finish with a world-class round on Sunday.