Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Satan's Game

So, in a few weeks the husband and I will be traveling to South Carolina to celebrate my Dad's 70th birthday. While there, we plan on laying at the beach, eating ridiculous amounts of food, playing a little tennis and, if I'm ready, playing golf. Now, for those of you, who haven't had the opportunity of being tortured and belittled by a small dimpled ball, let me tell you a little secret - golf sucks. It sucks bad. It makes you question every coordinated day you've ever had in your life. It makes you wonder if anyone is up there in heaven or if Satan is really in control - and just to show his control he makes people play golf. It's such a hard sport, that even me, a rather strong willed woman, can sort of look past Tiger Woods' transgressions because he is able to hit this small ball into a hole. Honestly, people, his man can't be all bad.

So, why do I attempt to play this sport? One, because I once hit a hole in one and that's just too bad A to not continue. Two, people say you can play this sport until you die. (Sure, I think this sport will actually kill you, but we'll see.) And three, because after chunking 100 shots, slicing the other twenty and missing too many puts to count, you hit one forsaken good shot and you think, "This sport isn't all bad."*

So, wish me luck - I've got four weeks to master this game. And just so you know, if my golf lessons don't start producing some results I'm going the pre-Thanksgiving/scandal Tiger route. Don't judge, it's not love, it's just about being a better golfer.

*Lies, lies, lies.


SkippyMom said...

My Dad loved golf above all else. Although the man managed to teach me bowling [his second favorite sport] he could not school me in the nuances of hitting a golf ball.

True story:
He took me out to the Officer's Club at our local military base. He set me up on the tee and gave me instruction. On my second swipe [that is what I am calling it] he grabbed the club out of my hand, took me by the wrist and dragged me off the tee whispering "Nicely done Skippy. You just took out a Bird Colonel."

Seems I hooked the ball so bad I hit a much higher ranking officer three boxes over [we were on the driving range] and my Dad had to scoot my behind off the tee - and fast.

He never let me hold a golf club again.

Have fun and I wish you luck/all the best!

Meg Schmidt said...

My grandpa and my uncle both had heart attacks on the golf course and died. Not at the same time though.

Have fun!

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