For those of you who have never had the pleasure, it is a lovely course, which will eat your lunch - regularly. A wayward shot will send you to an Audubon Society outing; and let me tell you, today I became a platinum member, contributing a great deal of time and more than a few sleeves of balls. Sure I hit the odd corker of a shot. Heck, I even parred a few holes along the way. My partner and I managed to win the front nine on a great par putt, but then we managed to lose the match, along with our attention spans, coming down 18 (and, quite honestly, at about the turn).
We have all heard golf referred to by many terms: the "four letter word", a "good walk spoiled", "better than any day in the office" and so on. Similarly, we've been out there with that one bone head, who comments after that occasional shot, ripped beautifully: "heck, that's the one that keeps you coming back". No offense at his attempt to heap praise, but if I only hit one decent shot per round, my clubs would be collecting dust in some corner of my garage behind the bikes, bins of balls and other used sporting goods. I'd like to think that I start out my round a winner, because I am the best dressed guy out there. Everything else I do after donning my attire is gravy.
Golf is a great game but it is also a war. It is a mental war - usually a losing one. I can pinpoint the accuracy of my shot into any body of water or sand trap. I cannot find the green or fairway with the same accuracy, usually finding those with the greatest of luck only (and I play to about an 18 handicap).
Golf is a war against other golfers. The golf course is a petrie dish of current society. Manners appear to be optional. Not that some of the miscreants who play have shown any aptitude for a semblance of civility. Walking into another fairway without checking to see if some one might be hitting, taking 400 practice swings before "duffing" the ball all of 25 feet to repeat the process, yelling across the course: these are a few of my favorites. We saw them all today. We expected it, though. While it is Yale's course, it is still a "muni", which allows anyone who can afford the fee to put on the spikes and swing the sticks. It is also about 50 yards from the "projects", which makes it an interesting oasis amid some pretty shady surroundings.
Golf can also be a war against the elements. It was today. It may not have reached the mid-90s on the thermometer, but it felt like it did. The sun sapped our energy (and we were riding as opposed to the two morons who walked ahead of us caddied for by two banjo playing West Virginia refugees). Water was only available every 5th or 6th hole (you would think a municipal golf course could find one coed in a skin tight tank top to make the rounds with overpriced beer, gatorade and the likes in a cart). It was soul sucking, and then there was the golf. Yet, we endured. We enjoyed our time together, hitting the usual topics: why would Tiger cheat on his wife (notable for its golfing theme), why would he cheat on her with the biggest roster of ugly women since my 1989 mixer with the Pi Mu sorority, why is our government so screwed up, and who did we have to kill to get a drink?
All in all, it was fun. It was a Saturday well spent with friends, melting under a depleted ozone layer (though recent reports say that the ozone is back). It was a prelude to drinks and dinner with the same crew, and their wives. It was what a Saturday was all the time before I had kids. And, for 5 hours, it was a nice reminder of those days. But, boy was it hot.
Off to the shower. That's my view from a plane.
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