September 19, 2024 11:48 pm
Golf Anyone? We All Good!
The Eighteenth
The Last Hole
Golf my way, has been the only way that I have played, but golf is NOT my favorite game to play and never was!
There, I’ve said it.
I have difficulty even categorizing golf as a sport, that is my opinion.
If I am viewed ignorant of the sport, then I am happy to be a willing ig-nor-amus!
Call me what you like, I could not care less.
However, I have certainly played the game countless times, mostly in Ontario.
I don’t remember the very first time, but I will always remember the last!
Having played golf with many, many friends, associates and others that I didn’t even know their names, over multiple decades and on more golf courses than I can count, let alone the solo trips to local golf clubs.
Lets see on my abacus…hundreds of rounds of golf, thousands of holes and tens of thousands of golf swings in total!
Many people have offered their advice on how to grip the club, stand properly, swing and everything else.
Some advice worked to a degree, some did not.
Golf was not cheap either.
Over the years, the extended expenditure on clubs, bag, clothing and shoes, accessories, memberships, fees and travel, there would be a tidy wad.
Much of my enjoyment came from the myriad of scenery, nature, wildlife and being outside amidst of it all. I enjoyed the varied weather conditions that prevailed, thunderstorms, rain, fog and heat.
All of that was a huge part of the highlights.
There have been suggestions that lessons by a professional could have been beneficial.
I would not disagree.
Perhaps that was why my game would never be a very competitive one.
Playing the game came with a difficult learning curve for me, with a fair share of frustrating times, mostly at the entry level. I was not a natural talent, not the next Jack Nicholas or Ben Hogan, that’s for sure.
My mindset was more aligned with the fun side of this coin.
I often saw the funny side and that was the impetus to play another time.
There were other days that the emotion needle bent toward frustration.
The very last frustrating time was actually the very last time I played.
It was the last hole of the day the eighteenth.
A good drive off the tee rested in the middle of the fairway, albeit 120-140 yards in front of a sprawling oak tree. It was still the best shot out of our group of four players.
The next shot would set up nicely if I placed it to the right of the tree, to enable the approach shot onto the green where the hole was centered.
It did not go as planned.
My head was more focused on where the the ball was going to land.
An eighteen inch divot rose from the ground like a flying squirrel.
The ball landed just about eighty feet forward and to the left of the oak standing guard.
Not good at all.
This proved the necessity and failure in my case here, of keeping your head down!
Now should I just calm down and make an easy recovery to the right then pitch a nice wedge onto the green from there?
On the seventeenth, I had deposited four balls into the small pond in my determination to go over it.
Those were not the only mishaps that I had incurred during the day.
Some frustration had built up and set in fairly deep.
For my third shot on the eighteenth, I chose to go over the tree with an eight iron and it should land on the apron or even the green and roll nicely toward the hole.
OK, many people [mostly golfers] might view that choice as a bit adventurous, but quite frankly that was how I played the game.
I put extra ‘oomph’ into that one.
The sorry little, white thing, covered in dimples, took off the ground with so much screaming jizz n fizz, like it had been shot from a cannon using nitro for fuel.
I watched everything in real life slow-motion.
Straight for the middle of the tree.
The ball hit it with a resounding ‘crack’!
I’m sure it was felt in the clubhouse.
‘Dimples’ went straight up in the air, through the leaves, stripping all greenery in its path, knocked on several branches like a short burst from a machine gun and came out the top, poking its tongue into the blue sky.
It came back down again into the tree, but never touched the ground. It was lodged somewhere in a maze of branches.
I looked at the other three players all on the ground in fits of laughter, one thought he saw the tree shake when it was hit.
The club in my hands proved my error.
I had mistakenly used a three iron instead of an eight iron, that was why the ball had very little loft and failed to make it over the oak.
Frustration peaked!
As frustrated as I had ever been, I had never thrown a club….’till that moment!
I took several angry steps forward like an Olympic javelin thrower and hurled it gold-medal-bound right at the oak.
The club helicoptered with ‘whoosh’ ‘whoosh’ ‘whooshing’ sounds, right into the heart of the tree, stripping more vegetation from the mighty one.
An iron-type of clanging was heard as it must have hit a large branch in the center.
The club fell out of the tree moments later.
My head drooped as I did the slow walk of shame.
It was such a silly display of frustrated temper.
Examining the club that fell out of the tree revealed that it was NOT the one that I threw!
The club that I now had in my hand was a brand new sand-wedge.
So my three iron was still up in the tree somewhere.
It had dislodged the sand-wedge that someone else had managed to help find its way there.
I remember saying to myself, ‘I am never gonna get frustrated like this again’.
NEVER!
I have never played the game since.
I probably never will and I am happy about that!
Have you played a game, a sport or pursued an endeavor, that you sensed you had put a lot of time, money and effort into?
Then in hind-sight thought… was it all worth it?
I would love to read your experiences too.
Be brave open up!
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