I Don’t Golf Anymore

I used to like to go golfing every now and then, but now, for me, it has lost its luster and any enjoyment that I may have once had is gone. This desire to hit a ball and then walk in the direction that it went didn’t slowly wither away, but rather was killed inside of me one day as I was starting a round with a friend. Come along and I will tell you the tale.

I wasn’t an extremely frequent golfer and as such, I did not see any real reason to purchase my own set of clubs. It would have been nice to have clubs that would work better for someone with a 6 foot 7 inch frame but I thought that borrowing a set of clubs from my friend was fine. He had one driver that was longer than the others which was my weapon of choice when whacking balls in various directions. For some reason, that I will not tell now, his long driver was missing on the day in question when I began this round with another friend.

I watched my friend tee off with great ease and then his brother-in-law, who came along with us, hit a good ball as well. I set up my ball and chose the longest driver that my friend had remaining in his bag when I borrowed it. I squared up and got in my usual not-so-confident stance. I felt like I was really bending over to reach the ball though. I reared back and swung a mighty swing. WHIFF!!! Nothing but air. Ouch, that’s embarrassing.

Oh well, it happens sometimes. I bent my knees a little more to really get down there and lined up for another shot. As I did this, two sweet old ladies pulled up behind us in their golf cart. I pulled back for my redemption shot and let her rip. I could have sworn that the ball went flying for about a mile, but when I looked down at my feet, there it was.

My friend and his brother-in-law had a good little laugh at that one and I think I heard one of the old ladies chuckle a little. At this moment I swore that I would not strike out. I tried to realign my chakra and calm down for a good solid hit. I swung again and missed.

Both of the old ladies laughed out loud at this miss which just encouraged my friend’s laughter more. After this I gave up on good form and control over where the ball goes. I decided, it was better to go after a stray ball than to look the fool again. I went down for a sloppy fourth swing and missed completely.

The laughter from the third miss had not died down yet and so only continued and grew louder with this fourth. I grew more frantic. I had to get that ball out of there so I could get away from these once sweet old ladies and away from the evil laughter.

With my heart rate raised and all my confidence crushed and murdered, I took an even more sloppy and hurried swing. It should be no surprise that I missed again a fifth time. Was I going to strike out twice? Through the roaring laughter I took a one armed swing which was once again errant.

I had struck out, not only once, but twice. For my seventh try I decided to settle down and maybe get a real hit in, but to no avail. Both of the old ladies had fallen out of their cart and were rolling on the ground with tears pouring from their eyes (At least I felt like they had.) I am certain that my friend and his brother-in-law really did have tears from laughing. It felt like I was at Def Comedy Jam but there were no comedians.

This was it, my eighth try. I was determined to not fail again. When you put your mind and will to it you can do anything. I pulled back and pushed all of the scorn and shame that I had felt down my arms to the end of the short club I was using. It swung like a wrecking ball towards a gigantic building that could not be missed. I was swinging for every starving child in the world, every abused woman and anyone who had ever been trodden down in this life. There was a special power in this swing that was going to solve all the world’s problems when it hit that little dimpled representation of all that is evil in this world. As you can tell, by the fact that you still have problems, I missed. I picked up the ball, threw it as far as I could and quickly walked away from the howling laughter and searing cackles.

I don’t golf anymore.