Wednesday, November 7, 2007

My Precious

Why do I still have my golf clubs? I don’t play golf anymore. I haven’t played in almost three years, but there they are; staring at me from my closet. I was getting dressed this morning and noticed the bag of wrenches taking up a bunch of very limited space. I should just throw them into the back of my truck and sell them to Play it Again Sports. Then maybe some disadvantaged kid can get a decent set of golf clubs for a discount. I quit golf because I was headed down a dark path, and the cons seriously outweighed the pros. I started playing golf with a group of guys when I was at the largest brokerage house in the world. I’m not mentioning their name because I hate them, and their current woes make me laugh. We would go out on Saturdays and play a round, and see how long we could keep up a beer a hole pace. This was fun. The trouble started when I decided that I needed to get better. MJ got me golf lessons for Christmas one year and my game started improving, and by improving I mean that I at least knew what I was doing wrong. Golf and I were never meant to be together. There’s absolutely no aggression in golf, so it has to be manufactured. This is why all golfers bet and/or drink when they play; they have to keep themselves interested. Well, four hour drinking sessions just lead to DUI’s and I hate losing money, or anything else for that matter, so I needed to sharpen my game. One day, while trying to sharpen, I had a little melt down. I was on the driving range hitting balls. I started with my sand wedge and moved down a club when I hit three in a row the way I wanted to. It was a beautiful Friday morning and I was alone. Since I was alone I didn’t need to check my emotions. I was swearing like a hyper-active kid with Tourett's. Golf is a game that requires patience. I don’t have a bunch. Professional golfers are so mind-numbingly meticulous because they have to be. I just want to hit the ball as hard as I can. Everything was going well until I got to my driver – the infamous 1 wood. Going from my sand wedge down through my 3 wood took about one and a half buckets of balls. I went through four buckets of balls and a few spinal disks trying to hit three balls straight with my driver. I can hit my driver straight as long as I don’t swing too hard, but I can’t help swinging too hard. I tell myself to relax and let the club do the work, but I can’t, not three times in a row. This is how we got to the bottom of the fifth bucket of balls. It was my last ball. I was determined to hit it straight. I didn’t hit it straight. I sliced it into the woods because somewhere during my downswing I got the urge to hit the ball hard. I lost my mind. I threw my driver as far as I could. I kung fu’d my golf bag. I turned around and saw a little old lady who was ninety if she was a day staring wide eyed at me doing my Chernobyl impression. I decided that was rock bottom. I retrieved my driver, picked up my bag, I left the ball buckets where they were as an act of defiance, and I haven’t played since. I don’t miss it. Golf is expensive, time consuming, and frustrating. So the question remains, what the hell are my golf clubs still doing in my closet?

3 comments:

MJ said...

Good question.

I was worried about the line "Well, four hour drinking sessions just lead to DUI’s and I hate losing money, or anything else for that matter, so I needed to sharpen my game." I read "lead" as past tense and thought "What?!!! He got a DUI?!?!?" I think I've read it properly now and I've settled myself. Not that I ever jump to conclusions or think the worst of people.

Yea, maybe you should clean out your closet.

Good post. :)
Love you...

Cora Spondence said...

I'd pay serious money to see you play golf, just to see your version of Hellboy. Great recollection on the links. I could see you in your Cinderella story glory.
Now, what to do with those clubs? Yes, you could always donate them to benefit the new Tiger or Tigress Woods of the next generation ("Bogeying is futile"). OR you could get a welder's torch, crank up "What A Feeling" and make yourself some funky yard art.

JSG said...

Hmm, what else is in that closet? Another thing about golf: funny pants. Ouch