The hour-and-a-half drive home from final stage of LPGA Q-Series was silent. Sarah Edwards didn't say a word. She didn't call anyone; she couldn't. She had just let her dream and her best chance at financial stability in professional golf slip away.
Edwards held herself together through the final round, but after signing her card, the tears came. Another year on the Epson Tour meant another year working at her parents' small business during off weeks, another year driving thousands of miles in her truck, another year asking a middle-class family to stretch a little further to keep a dream alive.
In the parking lot, she was nearly inconsolable.
"My dream was right there, and I let it slip away," she told me.
I first met Edwards at the Epson Tour event in Harris, Michigan, a tiny town in the Upper Peninsula. She was leaning against her five-year-old college bag near the putting green. The white University of Alabama bag still had her name stitched across the side, but it showed its age. There were stains on the fabric, loose threads pulling away from the embroidery, and signs of wear everywhere.
It looked exactly like what it was: the bag of a professional golfer trying to stretch every dollar and squeeze one more season out of a dream.
"Yes sir," she said, her Southern politeness evident from the first words when I asked if she had a minute to talk.
Edwards was guarded at first, careful with her answers, but when I asked about her irons, she opened up.
Her nine-iron told its own story. The face was scarred with nicks and gouges, the grooves in the sweet spot worn down from years of use. Some of the marks likely came from the family property where Edwards grew up hitting balls and where she still does much of her practice today.
Her wedges were used wedges given to her by Champions Tour member and former PGA Tour winner Boo Weekley, who lives in Jay, Florida where Edwards now resides. They weren’t fit for her, but they were free, and in better shape then her old wedges.
The irons are four years old, an eternity in modern professional golf, and like so much else in Edwards' career, they've been asked to last longer than they were ever intended to.
This is Edwards' third season on the Epson Tour, and after investing in a new set of Ping irons last year, final stage of Q-Series became a breaking point.
"They weren't going anywhere," Edwards said of her game after missing out on LPGA status. "After I missed, I decided I had to make a change."
But there was a problem. The money she had saved through high school and college was nearly gone, and another new set of clubs simply wasn't an option. So the Titleist irons she used in college went back in the bag.
On Sunday night my phone rang. The screen read "Cotton Country," the name of the boat engine shop owned by Edwards' parents.
We talked for nearly an hour, but Edwards had plenty of time. She was nearing the end of the nearly 20-hour drive from Michigan's Upper Peninsula back to her family home in Jay, Florida.The drive was longer than expected. Edwards had started a day earlier than planned after missing the 36-hole cut.
On the Epson Tour, missed cuts don't just hurt your confidence. They also mean another long drive home. Most importantly it meant no paycheck, something Edwards desperately needs.
At least this truck was still running. Edwards' parents had already bought her another one after the truck she drove through college and the first years of her professional career had broken down so many times she stopped counting.
This week is an off week, so Edwards is back at Cotton Country, working noon to five, just as she has done during most breaks in her three seasons on the Epson Tour. With only one full-time employee besides her parents, there is no job beneath her.
"If someone needs a wrench, I can grab one, clean up, greet customers, answer phones," she said.
For Edwards, off weeks aren't for rest. They're for earning enough money to keep chasing another tournament.
Before heading into work, Edwards walks out to the backyard of her parents' property to practice.
She saves every ball that is no longer fit for tournament play and turns it into a practice ball. Over the years she has hit thousands upon thousands of shots into the field, then walked out with a hand picker to collect them, only to hit them all over again.
It's the same field where she learned the game, and years into a professional career, it remains her driving range.
There is only one course near Jay, Florida, about a 20-minute drive from the Edwards home. Edwards is appreciative they allow her a place to play and work on parts of her game she can't in her backyard, but it isn't an ideal setup for someone trying to reach the LPGA Tour.
Outdated equipment. Little money left. No real practice facility. Thousands of miles spent driving from tournament to tournament. For most people, that would be enough to dim the dream.
It hasn't for Edwards.
"I still believe I'll play on the LPGA Tour," she said. After all, Edwards has spent much of her life proving people wrong.
She didn't take up golf until she was 12 years old. Her family couldn't afford to send her to national junior events or the AJGA circuit that has become the traditional path for elite players. Yet she still found her way to Florida Gulf Coast University on a partial golf scholarship.
After setting the freshman scoring record at Florida Gulf Coast University, Edwards was promised a full scholarship the following season. For the first time in a long time, there was some financial relief in sight.
It never came.
When the promised scholarship failed to materialize, Edwards began looking for another opportunity. A family friend made a few phone calls to the athletic director at the University of Alabama. Edwards isn't exactly sure how it all came together, but she wasn't about to question it. She was simply ecstatic for the opportunity.
Edwards took out student loans and headed to Tuscaloosa with no guarantee she would ever crack the lineup at one of the nation's premier golf programs.
She not only made the team, but played in nine of 15 events as a walk-on. By her second season in Tuscaloosa, she had earned a full scholarship. By her final year, she led Alabama in scoring average.
A few weeks ago, Edwards officially exhausted the money she had saved from college. She hates asking her family for help, even though they have supported her every step of the way. The idea of creating a GoFundMe or seeking donations has crossed her mind, but she can't bring herself to do it.
"There are people out there suffering with real issues," she said. For Edwards, chasing a dream has always felt different from deserving charity.
Next week, Edwards will drive 13 hours north to the next Epson Tour event in South Bend, Indiana, desperate for both a paycheck and a good finish.
She is considering skipping the following event in Connecticut, another 10-hour drive from Indiana, simply to save money, despite sitting 108th in points and in danger of losing her card.
"All season really," Edwards admitted when I asked if her financial circumstances had affected her play.
It's hard not to protect against just trying to make a cut. It's hard not to feel extra pressure over a six-footer when missing it might mean you can't afford to play the next event.
The odds have never been in Edwards' favor. A late start in golf. No national junior schedule. Student loans. A walk-on spot at Alabama. Old clubs, a truck full of miles, and a bank account that's finally empty.
Each time she has found a way.
She still believes this time will be no different.
