Still Better Than Working

A friend invited me out to go shoot nine yesterday, and I had a fantastic time. Given that I hadn’t actually swung my sticks in anger on a real course for nearly a year, I was pleased with how well I shot. My slice eventually came under control — maybe my distance wasn’t great but I cleared the ladies’ tees every time and mostly I shot straight.

I wouldn’t say I played “well” in the sense that I could hang with and compete with people who do this every week or more often than that, but for an occasional golfer, I felt good overall. But as pleased as I was with my performance, I was also reminded of some of the frustrations that are involved with being out on the course. Bear with me as I seem like an ingrate and vent those frustrations. 

Other golfers are out on the course and you have to keep up the pace. Letting other players play through when you’re going slower is the usual way to go. My friend was not having as good a day as me and played slower. He didn’t mind taking five minutes to hunt around the rough for a ball. Which would be understandable if the ball had been made out of solid freaking gold, but when there’s two foursomes waiting to tee off behind you and the range marshal is riding out on the cart to tell you that you need to move faster, and you’re twelve strokes behind your companion anyway, you need to just eat the penalty and drop a new ball. 

But there’s also having to hide behind trees while players in adjacent fairways are lining up and taking their shots, which will be moving towards you, before you can step out between the trees and hunt for your own ball. And not all of them are good, so they take seven or eight practice swings, wiggle their asses around in the air to adjust their aim inconsequentially, and wander about hunting for their own balls. Maybe I played so well because between all of the other duffers’ slow play, my friend’s slow play, and even a small amount of experience under my belt left me with lots of time between strokes to rest.

And then there’s all the fishing around with the equipment! This wasn’t just my buddy but it seemed like everyone else out there was procrastinating actually playing golf by way of making like a gopher and digging into the kit for minutes at a time. Seriously, folks, how long does it take to select and remove a club from your bag, tee up a ball and hit it? What in the hell are you doing over there, opening and rummaging through every goddam pocket in your bag, and wiping down every face of every club, even clubs you haven’t used once yet that day? You don’t need to wash your fishing golf balls after every hole. You need to address the ball, aim, and swing.

This is Cheesy Acres, not the PGA National. We’re not Phil Mickelson and Tiger Woods playing ten thousand dollars per skin. The reason your shots aren’t going straight isn’t that you’ve not removed a speck of dust from the groove on the face of your as-yet-unused two-iron, it’s because you moved your head during your swing, and you didn’t keep your left arm straight. Exactly like I just did. So play golf already!