Golf : The Devil's Game

As a teacher and coach I am currently enjoying the best time of the school year....summer. No offense is intended to any of my students or athletes but there is something very appealing about hanging around on the couch watching ESPN waiting for the mailman to deliver my paycheck. If only I could figure out a way for that to happen twelve months of the year (sigh).

Anyway, the summer really gives me the opportunity to do some of the things I love to do. One of those things is golf. First, let's define golf. Webster's defines golf as "the perfect combination of exercise and swearing". Actually, I saw that on a T-shirt but it is the definition I like the best.

Now that we've defined golf we can get to the heart of the matter. It is simply the cruelest game ever to spring forth from the mind of man. No matter who you are you can never master the game. Even Tiger Woods hits a shot from time to time that makes all of us weekend hackers smile and snicker under our breath. Did you happen to watch the U.S. Open this last week? I think Tiger actually took out a housewife with a wayward drive on the 18th hole on Sunday (she should have been paying closer attention). The difference between Tiger and myself, other than millions of dollars, is that he has the ability to hit a great recovery shot after a stinker. I, on the other hand, tend to follow a stinker with another stinker. That second stinker is usually followed by a shot off a tree, spectator, or squirrel. That wayward shot then usually careens into whatever body of water happens to be within a three mile radius. If there is water in the county I can manage to hit a golf ball into it.

The cruelest aspect of the game of golf is how it teases you. It seems so simple. Nobody tries to tackle you, the ball isn't being thrown at you at 90 miles per hour, and nobody is chasing you or yelling at you. The ball just lays there, sometimes even teed up perfectly, and taunts you because it knows you can't hit it straight. You can almost hear the dimpled little rascal giggling at address. "You want me to fly where? Ha! Fat chance!". The good part of this whole deal is that I get to see some very scenic parts of the course that good golfers never get to see. I've become quite the expert on the different kinds of small mammals, reptiles, brush, and trees that flourish just off the fairway. It is actually quite peaceful out there. The quiet is broken only by the soft weeping of those of us who can't find our way back to the short grass of the fairway.

Despite all of this I will continue to golf. I can't stop. Somewhere, deep inside, I think that if I just practice a bit more I might still be able to make the Senior Tour. My wife says that my new meds will help with these delusions. I hope not.

My best