Golfing. It’s a fickle sport at best. It’s a sport that will leave you higher than life one second, and wanting to beat your golf cart to death with a 4-iron the next. Even the worst golfers hit a Tiger shot once in a while, and it’s what makes ’em always go back for another round.
It’s a sport that children as young as two or three can start to learn, and it’s a sport that people never tire of, no matter how old they get. In fact, there are documented cases of people dying of old age while rounding the back nine or while lining up for that perfect chip onto the green (The Legend of Bagger Vance is a documentary, right?)
Few moments there are that match the pinging sound of a perfectly connected hit or of watching the ball sail effortlessly across a flawless glass pond. Few thrills are ever experienced that are as exhilarating as a textbook putt streaking across a neatly trimmed green while tiny insects dance in the rays of the lingering sunset.
Yes, golfing is magical. For some.
For me, it’s hell on earth. It’s worse than bowling even. It’s torture that for some reason I put myself through again, and again, and again. I’ve probably been golfing at least fifty times in my life. Watching me golf is like watching a 12-year-old smack himself in the face with a 2×4. Repeatedly. There’s no point to it, it’s immature, and it always ends with a severe headache and something bleeding.
If I’m lucky enough to drive my ball past the women’s tees, which is about once every solar eclipse, it’s usually straight into a bush, a sand trap, or some taunting river. If I’m lucky enough to hit it onto the fairway, it’s usually the next fairway over.
I’ve tried to learn proper technique. My dad, who’s a golfing genius, has tried without end to help me get rid of my horrible slice. He’s video taped me and helped me see what I’m doing wrong. He has taught me all of the proper grips, stances, swinging techniques, hip actions, and more. It’s all to no avail. I truly believe some people just don’t have a golfer’s swing inside of them. If I do, it’s harder to find than Bin Laden.
But, I’ve always gone back and I always will. In the end it’s about being with my brothers and my dad, getting away from the hustle and bustle of life, and trying (even if trying is all I ever do) to be good at something that I really do want to be good at. Even the worst of days can be salvaged by playing chicken on the golf carts or ditching an unsuspecting brother at the bathrooms. And, like I said. Even the worst golfers hit a Tiger shot once in a while.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing
PS, I was trying to decide what to write today. On the newsletter sign-up form it asks the question What is a topic you’d like to see SDL write about. One of my subscribers (Krista) wrote: “Dan, I am a new follower, but I have enjoyed everything I have read so far. I think you could even make golf sound fun and interesting.” Sounded like a fun challenge.
I’d love to hear your comments. Do you like golf? Do you like playing it? Watching it? I find watching it to be as exciting as watching chess. If you do or have played, what do you love about it, what do you hate about it?