Misadventures on the Golf Course Part I

I took up golf about ten years ago. It was about the time that my husband took it up, because I insisted my son take it up. My son was about ten at the time and has never been athletically inclined. He’s now approaching 21 and still not athletically inclined, but he can bang a mean Steinway. He can also golf fairly well.  Golf is the one sport where literally anyone can participate, whether or not you are athletically inclined. In fact, old duffers and youngsters with no clue are usually the best at golf.

Now me, I’m really not very good at golf. In fact, you could say I’m awful. I tend to dig up a lot of fairway. In fact, I hate to hit the ball if it’s on the fairway, because I’m afraid I’ll mess up the grass. I’m fairly decent off the tee, but it depends. Some days I can really nail the putts too. I’ve shown some brilliant moves as well as some downright stinkers. If I’m in a good mood, if I’m not paired up with a Tiger Woods  wannabe, if I’ve had some liquid refreshment beforehand, I can look like a genius. If not, I can look like a blind golfer. I’m not kidding when I say that I can sometimes throw the ball much farther than I can hit it with a golf club.

I have many golf stories, even though I now only golf maybe once a month. Back when my son lived here and was on the golf team in high school, we probably went out a few times a week. We don’t seem to have the time for it anymore, even though he moved away. I don’t do it to beat the pants off my opponent; I like fresh air and the fact that I can do this by myself. The only person I want to beat is me. Some days that’s easier said than done. I’m the kind of person who has always taken two steps forward and one step back.

You have to admit that golf courses are really pretty. They seem to attract a lot of wildlife, too. One time, my son hit a flying goose with a long drive. I’m not sure if the goose survived. It was too bad, because usually he hits straight into the woods. He’s hit balls there and deer have emerged, shaken but alive. Speaking of the woods, it’s usually more fun to hit out of them, plus the bonus is that you can find a lot of stray balls in there. I would not recommend looking for stray balls in Florida, where there are alligators or in the Bahamas, where some of the insects are bigger than my palm.

I once hit my husband in the neck with a ball. The ridiculous thing is that he was in the cart right across from my tee box. Yes, my tee shot went laterally. (I happen to be the only one who can do that.) For a long time after that, when I approached my tee box, he would yell “cover your neck” and proceed to back up to the black tees. Oh, yes, Mr. Demonic is a comedian.

When I first started golfing, I would have my own cart, and Mr. Demonics Senior and Junior would share a cart. This is because Ms. Mini-Demonic doesn’t golf. She thinks the clothes are ugly and make women’s butts look big. When she was younger, she would go just to ride, but now she has other things to do. The other two would circle my ball in the fairway, and proceed to make faces at me while I lined up my shot. If you’ve ever seen Mr. Demonic Junior’s face, you’d know that he’s his own cartoon when it comes to facial features. This would either leave me steaming mad, or laughing so hard I would fall to the ground.

Thinking about golf makes me wish it were nicer out.