3. Double Bogey

(Previously sent to friends as a “Happy Friday” email on 10/14/11.)

I’ve been thinking about becoming a golf pro to give me something to do on nice days. I’ve had my clubs for more than 12 years now and have already played nearly a half dozen rounds since. It just seems to come naturally to me, much like a fish takes to pavement … but with far less grace.  And, what I lack in driving distance, I make up with my deft inaccuracy. The real problem for me is that the other players want to rush the game. It’s like they’re trying to stay ahead of the people playing behind us. I’m more of a smell-the-roses kind of player who wants to savor the experience along the way. You could say that I’m a “process” player rather than a score-card “product” guy.

To the golfers behind us, I say “Why didn’t get a tee-time BEFORE us … how hard would THAT be?” And, for those who want to play through, it’s, “NO CUTS, we got here first.  DEAL with it!” in my most sportsman-like voice. But still, the people willing to play with me always seem to be in a hurry to finish, usually making just one shot for every three of mine. So, to speed things up, I’ve been pondering a new strategy that involves hitting the ball on the run … kind of like playing polo, but without the horse. It would probably work best on public courses since private links are pretty grouchy about following the rules.

I recently finished golf lessons with a terrific pro. A couple of friends gave them to me as a retirement gift. I’ve found myself enjoying the game much more since then. But it also dawned on me that I’m hitting the ball fewer times each game, and thus, playing less golf. Apparently, the better you get, the less you actually get to hit the ball … and you still have to pay full price. Go figure. 

And, I really like the social part of golf even though I don’t spend much time with the others in my group. Instead, I follow my ball around, touring the back yards of homes that line the fairways. (See “inaccuracy” above.) My conversations with the neighbors tend to be short and friendly, along the lines of: “Sorry about your flowers, Ma’am. This ball belongs to the guy in the tasteless argyle sweater up ahead.” Then I beat it out of there waving the ball over my head, yelling, “Hey, Jeff, I found your ball!” and chuck it in the general direction of the hole. Closing in on the group, I lope up alongside the ball at a near gallop and whap it in a style reminiscent of Prince William’s … with Kate cheering him on from the sidelines. Giddy up! 

L. Haymond

Recipient, Coveted Gold-Star Sticker

Walter Mitty Fan Club