POCATELLO — Dawson Moon’s blue golf cart screeches to a halt just outside the pro shop. It’s not yet noon and Moon has already wasted more than an hour at Highland Golf Course – putting, chipping, playing a few holes. But as I arrive, ready to play 18 holes with the links prodigy, he waltzes behind the counter like he owns the place, chatting up the cashier before repeating a phrase that is practically instinctual: “I’m going out again.”

He pulls up to the first tee box and whips out his black Titleist TS3 driver like a samurai preparing for battle. Just like that, we’re off.

Hole 1: 520 yards / Par 5 / Moon’s result: Birdie (-1)

The sun has peaked, but Moon opts against a hat. He has brown hair that isn’t quite disheveled but was likely put together in under five seconds. As he pulls his driver back, his shoulders rotate like a clock dial, he bends his left knee, his hips dip, his balance shifts forward like a pendulum and Moon unloads a wrecking ball’s worth of force into the white dimpled ball.

Moon, a senior at Highland, is pretty universally known as the best high-school golfer around these parts, but another winter hitting solely into nets has left his game in need of a little fine-tuning. He pushes his first drive right, into the tree line, setting up a doozy of a second shot that lands just right of the green. After chipping to within eight feet and knocking down the birdie putt, Moon flashes a smile to start the day.

Hole 2: 382 yards / Par 4 / Moon’s result: Par (-1)

When good things happen on the first hole at Highland, Moon can’t help but think back to July, when it was the setting for the first playoff hole of a summer scramble. He and Highland coach Ty Pearson were playing well, but 18 holes weren’t enough to settle things. Moon had never been in a playoff before — and it showed. He pushed his drive but got bailed out by a bomb from Pearson. The whole thing came down to a 30-yard chip in front of the green.

“Ty shanks it again and I was like, ‘This is all on me now,’” Moon said. “I was shaking a little bit, then I kind of looked around and said, ‘Just smile.’ So I start smiling at everyone, tried to get positive … I hit one of the best wedge shots of my life and spun it to like 3 feet.”

Moon made the putt. The other group three-putted from the back of the green. Pearson and Moon celebrated.

Hole 3: 305 yards / Par 4 / Moon’s result: Birdie (-2)

Moon has probably played Highland 1,000 times. On this drivable par 4, he knows the green is like ice if you’re above the hole. So he hits a 3-wood to ensure he’s short and doesn’t have to hit a downhill putt that won’t stop until Main Street (I do the opposite and three-putt from five feet away). Moon chips up and sinks his birdie putt.

Hole 4: 390 yards / Par 4 / Moon’s result: Par (-2)

Moon again pushes his drive and lands his approach shot in the bunker. No worries. He pops it on the green and knocks down a slow-rolling 25-footer for the par save. That craftiness carries over to when Moon wants to earn a few bucks. He’s pocketed some cash with his buddy Fischer Anderson after the pair realized people would pay to have their controllers or PlayStations or Easter baskets hydro dipped — a type of water printing where people spray paint designs in liquid and transfer it to all sorts of items.

“He’s always been savvy,” Moon’s brother, Connor, said. “He gets into weird things and is somehow able to make them his own.”

Hole 5: 215 yards / Par 3 / Moon’s result: Par (-2)

Moon’s hard-earned knowledge of his home course shows up again on the fifth hole as I measure up a 30-footer that looks to be breaking right. No, Moon says, everything breaks towards the city, it’s going to break way left. And it does.

Hole 6: 345 yards / Par 4 / Moon’s result: Par (-2)

Moon didn’t grow up with a club in his hand. His oldest brothers played baseball. His father, Wayne, coached baseball. So, naturally, Moon was a baseball player. Then his dad took him out to play a round in American Falls when he was 10.

The second hole of his life was a par 3. Moon put it three feet from the cup. He was hooked.

“(The next spring),” Wayne Moon said, “he came up to me and said, ‘Hey, I know you love baseball and love coaching baseball, but I think I don’t want to play baseball. I want to golf.’ I was like, ‘Whaaaat?!’”

Hole 7: 470 yards / Par 4 / Moon’s result: Par (-2)

The Moons knew Dawson was a good golfer. But, not being a golf family, they weren’t immersed enough in the sport to know exactly how good. It was strangers at Dawson’s first youth tournament who alerted them to their son’s uncanny talent.

“We were about halfway through,” Wayne said, “and one of the dads says, ‘Your son is good. He’s really good.’ He asked me when he started and I said, ‘This is it, man.’”

Added Connor: “He was in middle school and he went up to Highland to try out some clubs. There was a Calloway rep there … After he hit a couple, the Calloway rep turned to me and said, ‘This kid is incredible.’”

Hole 8: 215 yards / Par 3 / Moon’s result: Bogey (-1)

For all his talent, Moon’s ascension is in a bit of a holding pattern. He’s circling the skies, waiting on the NCAA-mandated dead period to end so the recruiting process can pick back up.

He was talking with Weber State, Utah Valley, Dixie State and other Division I programs after he placed ninth in state as a sophomore. Then COVID shut down his junior season and practically disconnected the recruiting phone lines. But Moon is fine playing the waiting game, confident his resume is worthy of an offer.

“As long as I shoot low-70s (this season),” he says, “I should be fine.”

Hole 9: 355 yards / Par 4 / Moon’s result: Bogey (E)

The ninth hole at Highland is a brutal dogleg left with trees lining the left of the fairway. Moon wants to just crank his drive over the trees and leave it in front of the green. Instead, the ball draws and lands under the bleachers of the adjacent Iron Horse Stadium. I suggest he should hop the fence and hit his second shot from Highland’s football field, but Moon isn’t tempted, or all that fazed by the bad drive. He drops in a sad patch of grass and hits a world-class punch shot under a half-dozen trees onto the green.

Moon two-putts and heads to the back nine even.

“He’s a pretty calm kid. Doesn’t get too high, doesn’t get too low,” Pearson said. “That’s what cool, is to see his mental side, his ability to come back from a bad shot.”

Hole 10: 370 yards / Par 4 / Moon’s result: Birdie (-1)

Moon sits in the driver’s seat as he relives an Idaho Golf Association (IGA) tournament from last year. It was a three-day event that Moon was dominating after day one. He was 4-under, leading by a few strokes, then started 1-under through 10 holes the next day. On the par-5 11th, Moon three-putted. He still parred, but the fuse of his frustration ignited. His round imploded. The same thing happened the next afternoon.

A few months later, Moon stood on the first tee in his playoff with Pearson. Same angst. Same pressure. Different result. The difference? “I smiled,” Moon said. “I was just positive.”

He pauses, looks down and unleashes a high-arching marvel of a shot that settles just past the hole.

“See,” Moon says, “like right there, you made me smile and I hit it right at the pin. A lot of people don’t realize that positivity plays such a big role in golf.”

Hole 11: 490 yards / Par 5 / Moon’s result: Par (-1)

Hole 12: 440 yards / Par 5 / Moon’s result: Par (-1)

Hole 13: 145 yards / Par 3 / Moon’s result: Bogey (E)

For about the past half-decade, anyone looking for Moon in the afternoon was best served to check the golf course. He would probably be playing, and probably alongside Wayne. The father-son duo used to get on the course four to five times a week. In the last year or so, that number has dwindled. Wayne got married last year. A few months ago, a colonoscopy revealed he had colon cancer.

“It was scary for sure, because when he told us, we didn’t know how bad it really was,” Dawson said. “You just get scared and worry that you didn’t spend enough time with him.”

After learning the colon cancer affected just one part of his colon and hadn’t spread too far, Wayne called a family meeting and shared the news. After the shock and tears, everyone went home. A few hours later, Dawson called his dad crying. He was scared — scared of his dad’s mortality, scared of not having someone at his golf matches, scared of the unknown.

That fear has lessened in the months since. Surgery removed the cancerous part of Wayne’s colon, and he began a six-month stint of chemotherapy on Thursday. Wayne’s voice is lively, the tone of an optimistic man in good spirits. Yet the timetable for his treatment clouds the answer to a pressing question: When will he be able to play with Dawson again?

“It’s just going to be a matter of how I feel and how my body does with it,” Wayne said. “I hate it … He’s getting ready to start his senior year and I’d like to go out and try to help him the best I can to get ready for the season.”

Hole 14: 360 yards / Par 4 / Moon’s result: Par (E)

Trying to liven the mood, Moon connects the aux cord. This brings the conversation to the rapping exploits of Dawson and Connor, who goes by the stage name “Brass.” The self-deprecating brothers aren’t bullish on their singing abilities, but untrained ears would disagree.

Connor, 24, began his SoundCloud music career a few years back — making beats, writing lyrics and eventually getting gigs at local bars like the Office and the First National. Of course, Dawson wanted to follow his big brother.

“I think he saw the reaction from friends and family and the crowd and he just thought it was cool, wanted to be a part of that,” Connor said. “Next thing you know, we’re doing it together.”

Hole 15: 375 yards / Par 4 / Moon’s result: Bogey (+1)

Moon is waiting on the 15th tee box. The speaker is blaring the beat to one of his unfinished works, “Mic Drop.” Two middle-aged men on the nearby 10th green are staring. Moon doesn’t even notice.

I step up to the mic like the Bad Boy Pistons

Heavyweight in this game — Sonny now Liston

I’m vicious — ain’t nobody messing with me

I treat my foes like the alphabet – A-B-C

He’s reading the lyrics off his iPhone, in a creative daze. He kicks his bear-in-a-fishing-hat head cover and twirls his Titleist driver. He’s bobbing his head. His feet are kicking to the beat. He’s moving around to keep the words flowing. Grinning like a child on the tee box, his creative outlet and his future ambition all in the same setting, Dawson Moon has probably never been more comfortable.

Murdered the beat, now you’re feeling defeat

While you’re sitting the corner and being discrete

You’re running out of gas but I’m hitting it fast

Call me Jimmy Neutron — gotta blast

Hole 16: 165 yards / Par 3 / Moon’s result: Par (+1)

Moon’s only hole-in-one came on this hole. Two summers ago, he bladed a 9-iron that rolled into the cup. He and Wayne had a dinner bet on who would card the first ace between them, and Wayne paid up with a trip to the Japanese steakhouse, Fuji.

On this day, Moon’s luck isn’t as great. He puts his tee shot a few feet short of the pin and two-putts for par.

Hole 17: 530 yards / Par 5 / Moon’s result: Par (+1)

As Moon cranks his driver down the 17th fairway, it’s hard to miss the trigger of his swing. Before he pulls the club back, his left shoulder dips down then shoots back up — almost like pro golfer Matthew Wolff, whose unorthodox swing is prone to impersonation in the same way people run up to shots like Happy Gilmore.

Moon is a golf savant. Watching YouTube highlights of Wolff or Tiger Woods or Jordan Spieth is catharsis for the 18-year old. And in the 17th fairway, Moon drops a few old balls and replicates Wolff’s swing, pounding shots into the driving range.

Hole 18: 440 yards / Par 4 / Moon’s result: Birdie (E)

Moon wants to finish his day with a scratch round of 72, which means he needs to birdie the 18th hole. On the 440-yard behemoth, his drive catches a tree and bounces into the wrong fairway, settling just over 100 yards from the tee box. “Oh no,” Moon says, “I just choked it.”

Then the Highland senior obliterates a 300-yard approach shot with his 3-wood and sinks a 25-yard chip from just off the green. He pounds the air with a Tiger-esque fist pump then, like he always does, Dawson Moon smiles.

“There’s a birdie to finish it,” Moon quips, striding across the green with a mile-wide grin.