Golf

I went golfing today. My friend Dave (not the communist Dave in the Debates topic) loves to golf and invites me, so I go. There are things in life you love, and some things you hate. For me, golf is both. If I had a car that wouldn’t start half the time, I’d get rid of it. I miss my golf shots half the time, but I keep going back. I’ve been raised to believe men don’t give up, so I won’t, dammit.

I once read that golf is primordial. Men like to do it because men, for eons, hit things with clubs to eat, or drive others with clubs away from the cave or village. Hitting something with a club is built into our DNA. Just like the cave-dweller, we derive some sadistic pleasure when hitting a ball and/or the Earth. Golf is a better outlet because these actions don’t normally result in a lawsuit.

When I was twelve, my dad had me caddie for him. He felt it was important for me to learn the game. Now being older, I ask myself why he would think a twelve-year-old boy would want to carry a twenty-five-pound golf bag in ninety-five-degree, sunny, humid heat for five hours. While it was good training for the military, I didn’t like it then. Today I golf to spend time with my friends. To be honest, I’d be just as happy to spend time in an air-conditioned establishment serving libations, but then we couldn’t swing clubs and hit things. Another life tradeoff.

When I was thirteen, my dad bought me a set of clubs. They were a “starter set” which means they were cheap. I tried to blame my horrible game on them, but no one listened. They always told me it was “operator error.” I still have significant operator errors when I play even though I have upgraded my clubs several times.

During a golf etiquette lesson, my dad taught me not to throw clubs, especially toward other players, but in the fury of a moment, I sometimes forget. If you have never played golf, you probably wonder why people throw clubs. You won’t see it on the PGA tour. There are some regulations against it even if you don’t hit somebody, but I see the look in a PGA player’s eyes once in a while. It usually happens when they just blew a three-shot lead, but then it’s understandable. There are hundreds of thousands of dollars at stake, not to mention all the people watching and snickering.

Now that I’m older, and in better control of my anger, I only throw clubs four or five times a year and always yell “fore” if someone is in the way. My mind cannot fathom why my body doesn’t do what I want. How hard can it be? Why is my ball in the woods again?

For people unfamiliar with golf, or for review if you are, it’s time for some golf terminology . . .

Yelling “fore” is a golf custom. In addition to throwing clubs, you use it when you hit a ball at somebody, usually not on purpose, but it depends on how slow the guys in front of you are playing. It is a warning to duck and cover because a very-hard, spherical object is coming toward the person at a high rate of speed. Some golfers turn and try to see the approaching ball. Very stupid. By the time they see it, they are likely to get a significant bruise. If ever hit yourself, it may be an opportunity to use your club to retaliate, but only if you are still able to walk. There’s that DNA again.

“Tee time” is the time you start playing. There is a trade-off with tee times. I’m talking about summertime when it’s over ninety degrees before noon. You can get a really early tee time and be done before it’s hot, or sleep in and endure the relentless heat of the day. It mostly depends on when you drink beer. Some people will drink beer at 9:00 a.m. so it doesn’t matter. I have a personal beer start time of noon. Either way, most of us play worse once we start drinking, but we don’t care.

“Handicap” is a golf term. I always thought, before golf, a handicap was a bad thing. You know, crippled, missing a limb, blind, those sorts of things. In golf, a big handicap is a good thing. A big handicap means you can screw up more shots than the other guy with a lower handicap and still win. It’s supposed to make things more competitive. The lousy players have a better chance. For some reason, they seldom win anyway. Just the thought of beating someone better than you causes you to play a lot worse.

Some guys are proud of their low handicap because it means they are good golfers, to be respected and admired by others. They won’t tell you about it. That is distasteful, but the guy they brought with them will. It typically goes like this: “Hey pal, you know Joe is a seven handicap.” Me, “No I didn’t. I’m a twenty-five.” End of conversation.

Another bad handicap thing requires the golf definition of “foursome” which means four people playing together. It’s the normal group size. I don’t know why it’s called a foursome, or who picked that number as the standard, but it’s fun to know the jargon and feel like a real player.

When you play in tournaments, the foursome you’re assigned normally has an A player, B player, C player, and D player. The A player has the lowest handicap, probably because he grew up next to a golf course. He is normally the captain of the team, unless you’re playing with people from work. In that case, the captain is whoever is highest on the org chart.

I’m always happy being the D player, but some people seek leadership and power, and the low handicap, or the org chart, facilitates that. Usually, they only decide who goes first when hitting shots, but I did have one captain who decided to help my game. About the fourth time he was telling me how to stand and how to hold the club and how to swing I asked him, “Are we married?” He was quiet the rest of the round.

Pairings. Pairings might be fine at a dance or figuring out what wine to drink, but in golf, it means you couldn’t find three other guys to play with. The people at the golf course will make you play with others who you don’t know anything about except they are playing golf that day. There are a couple of things to work out when these others are forced upon you.

First, is there a clergy in the group? This can really constrain behavior. It’s worse than dinner with the in-laws. I do know some preachers who will say hell or damn, but that’s about it. Most of the jokes you were going to tell have to stay packed in your bag. The problem for me is I’ll forget them before the next round.

Second, most people you get paired with have played before but there’s no evidence of it. A lot of people should play tennis instead, but they’re still trying golf because their spouse thought it was a good idea or their dad bought them clubs when they were thirteen.

Third, if you get stuck with low handicap players, you’re the lead-weight in the group. There will be tremendous pressure to do better than you can. Expect one of the worst games of your life. When the round is over, they will shake your hand and say, “Enjoyed it,” which is a complete lie.

Fourth, I’ve been chauvinistic thus far by not mentioning women golfers. Twice I was paired with women and both times they beat me by over ten strokes. Enough said.

That’s enough. I’m going to the golf range for a while. Writing about this has pumped me up. I’ve got to practice before it’s too hot outside. Always remember that the theoretical best golf score anybody could ever have is eighteen. Eighteen holes-in-one, but the average golfer scores 100 or more. Heck, the best pros shoot in the sixties so don’t feel bad. We’re all awful at this. Maybe I just need some new clubs?