Saturday, August 22, 2015

My Golf Problem


There are few things more intimidating to me than a golf course - my blood pressure shoots up about 50 points just driving past them.

The manicured, emerald fairways, the parking lot of Lexuses and BMWs, the expensive clubs, the expensive shoes.

We haven’t even begun to discuss the actual skill required to play.

I will admit: I don’t put a great deal of effort into getting better. I play once, maybe twice, a year. I might hit the driving range, like I did last week with my son, another time. (Note: He’s way better than me, and he’s 10.) My clubs are hand-me-downs from a brother-in-law. They were probably made in the 1970s and built for someone six inches shorter than me.

The best thing about my game is my bag, and it’s getting moldy from being kept in the garage.

But, despite my lack of practice, I remain confounded by the fact that it is so difficult to hit a golf ball straight. Perhaps this is because I assume that my ability to play other sports is reasonably good, and I believe, somehow, that this will translate into being a halfway decent golfer. This is a foolish theory. But I guess there is still some part of me that believes that, one of these years when I go out and play, it will all suddenly fall into place, or, at least, I will no longer lose one ball per hole in the woods.

Typically, I play nine holes. Eighteen, I feel, is just prolonging the pain. Usually, I hold my own on Par Three holes, but long drives destroy my score. Once I take out my driver, it’s Slice City. If you have picked up one of the many golf balls that I have lost in the weeds, or out of bounds somewhere behind a tree, you’re welcome.

Would lessons help? Probably. But the stubborn side of me thinks I can self-correct. This line of thought likely originates from the same area in my brain as my unwillingness to ask for directions when I’m lost on vacation, or solicit help when I’m in the hardware store, which my kids are always telling me to do. “Just ask someone, Dad,” they say. But I CAN DO THIS is generally my mental state.

Only, with golf, I can’t.

Besides being basically impossible, golf comes with etiquette issues, which are annoying. In addition to the collared shirt and golf spikes, you can’t do certain things, such as talk when other people are swinging, or even warming up to swing, or sometimes while driving the golf cart to the next hole. You can barely breathe audibly. It’s a lot of energy wasted, censoring yourself like this. I once got yelled at – okay, “reminded” – to not walk on the green in the line of someone else’s ball even though they were not shooting. I was confused… were we on a municipal golf course or the PGA Tour?

Somehow, I think I might fare better if there were very large speakers blaring music toward the tee box. People could throw small objects at me. This would distract me just enough from having to remember all of the things I usually forget to do – keeping my head down while I swing, following through properly, standing with my feet the right distance apart, etc.

Then, there’s the financial aspect. Golf requires a significant investment to get better, whereas playing most other sports don’t require $40 or more to merely play each time. I have a fundamental problem paying money to do something I’m bad at.

I would just as soon take the $40 and go directly to the clubhouse, where I can enjoy lunch while watching professionals play, on TV.

It is a little comforting to know that there are many other people who play golf who are as bad as me. Some of them even appear to enjoy it. I asked one guy what his secret was, and he said, “Don’t keep score.”

Now there’s a tip that doesn’t require lessons.

Sent from my iPhone

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