Seven years away from competitive golf is a long time. Most would expect rust, nerves, maybe even a little fear of losing touch with the game.

But when Jeric Hechanova stepped back onto the tee at the 75th Fil-Am Invitational in Baguio City, it felt… like he’d never left.

He was there just to fill in for Ronnie Littaua, who had injured his ankle, and he did more than just show up. Hechanova scored 21 points, helping Luisita claim its sixth crown in seven years. But for him, the numbers didn’t matter.

“Just like in the past,” he said with a soft smile. There were no trembling hands, no hesitation — just a calm certainty. Jeric has always relied on mental golf: playing by memory, by feel, by decades of instinct. Even without regular practice, he found himself naturally falling back into old rhythms: Visualizing the shot, trusting the swing, committing to the moment.

Could he have scored more? Sure. But that wasn’t why he was there.

“That was what was important,” he said. After all he had been through, just standing there — under the open sky, on the green, with a club in his hands — felt like winning a trophy he could never have imagined.

A miracle he never expected

What makes his story extraordinary isn’t the seven-year break. It’s the journey that nearly ended it all.

A few years ago, doctors diagnosed him with dilated cardiomyopathy, a serious heart condition that’s usually irreversible. They gave him five to seven years to live — maybe less — with the looming possibility of a heart transplant. On top of that came chronic kidney disease, bladder blockage, and an enlarged prostate. The first year alone saw him in hospitals for 80 days — surgeries, emergency procedures, tests, and endless uncertainty.

“Now, miraculously, everything has reverted back to normal,” he said, his voice quiet, almost in disbelief.

“I’m just thankful to God for giving me more years to enjoy the game and give back to others.”

It’s a reminder that some recoveries aren’t just medical — they’re spiritual, emotional, a testament to resilience and hope, and to the love of those who refuse to let you fight alone.

Lessons from survival

“What’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned?” Jeric asked, reflecting.

“Never take things for granted.”

And he means it. After months in hospital beds, days that blurred into each other with tubes, monitors, and procedures, life’s simplest things — breathing freely, walking without pain, swinging a club — feel like miracles.

He’s learned to savor them, to live intentionally, to notice the small blessings most of us overlook.

A mentor first, golfer second

After over five decades in the sport, Jeric sees his role differently now.

“Definitely a mentor,” he said. “Playing golf isn’t my priority anymore. It’s about management, motivation, guiding the younger ones.”

He once chased trophies. Now, he invests in people — teaching, encouraging, reminding them that golf is as much about character as it is about skill.

Yet when he stepped back onto the course, the old fire returned. His former teammate Thirdy Escano admitted he was emotional seeing Jeric swing, move, and compete like he did more than 20 years ago. “It wasn’t nostalgia,” Escano said.

“It was witnessing hope in motion.”

Love, gratitude, and second chances

“What keeps me motivated?” Hechanova said. “I was given a second chance.”

Love, faith, and gratitude carried him through the darkest days. The prayers of friends and family, even strangers who never met him, made a difference. Hope guided him. Faith healed him.

His life today isn’t measured in scores or trophies. It’s measured in perspective — the kind of clarity only hardship can give.

Looking ahead

His goals for the coming year are simple:

“Stay healthy. Don’t be complacent with this gift God has given me.”

He no longer rushes through life. He’s savoring it, living it fully, and embracing each day.

When asked what advice he’d give to anyone facing serious challenges, he didn’t hesitate: “Never give up. And be thankful for everything — especially your loved ones.”

Hechanova return isn’t just a comeback. It’s a reminder that hope is real, that love can sustain, and that miracles — quiet, beautiful, and unexpected — still happen.

His story isn’t about golf. It’s about life. About surviving what seemed impossible. About waking up each day grateful for another chance.

A second chance. A quiet miracle. A life lived with love, hope and gratitude.