He's got game
That tremendous suck you might have heard – or felt – in south Redding this morning was me playing nine holes of golf.
My wife gave me clubs for my 40th birthday – the one I celebrated on crutches while recovering from knee surgery – and I can safely say I majorly suck at it. It doesn't mean I don't enjoy the game, however.
Hell, I just like to hit the ball and have fun. I know I will never be a Tiger Woods; hell, I’ll never be a John Daly.
I just like to go out and lose some golf balls on a cool morning (while ditching work).
I emailed a buddy over the weekend and asked, "nine holes?"
“As long as we can get out early.”
We met at Allen’s Golf Course, a nice, little nine-hole public course right in my neighborhood. When my buddy and I get together, we like to chat about mundane things; work, life, the state of the city, stuff like that. And, really, there isn't much conversation. Just a little golf between two friends.
This old guy – he looked a lot like Richard Attenborough from the movie Jurassic Park – walked up to the first tee and asked if he can join us.
What the hell, we decide.
“Name’s Roger,” he said. “Thanks for letting me play along.”
And then he starts to critique my play.
OK, a couple of the suggestions were helpful. But it just sort of continued.
My buddy was going after his ball up the eighth fairway – he got all of his tee shot and more – and Roger slides up to me to tell me how to get more height on my ball.
Now, I’ve watch him golf now for seven holes, and he’s a step above me in the skill department (although he can putt, I give him that). He managed to hit three trees and a piece of iron that marks the ladies’ tee – and sent two drives into the fairway of holes we were not currently playing.
“You know, Roger, I really don’t care,” I said. “I suck, I know it and I’m just out here to have a little fun and lose a few golf balls.”
He finished out the last two holes a bit faster than us – and promptly joined another twosome.
My wife gave me clubs for my 40th birthday – the one I celebrated on crutches while recovering from knee surgery – and I can safely say I majorly suck at it. It doesn't mean I don't enjoy the game, however.
Hell, I just like to hit the ball and have fun. I know I will never be a Tiger Woods; hell, I’ll never be a John Daly.
I just like to go out and lose some golf balls on a cool morning (while ditching work).
I emailed a buddy over the weekend and asked, "nine holes?"
“As long as we can get out early.”
We met at Allen’s Golf Course, a nice, little nine-hole public course right in my neighborhood. When my buddy and I get together, we like to chat about mundane things; work, life, the state of the city, stuff like that. And, really, there isn't much conversation. Just a little golf between two friends.
This old guy – he looked a lot like Richard Attenborough from the movie Jurassic Park – walked up to the first tee and asked if he can join us.
What the hell, we decide.
“Name’s Roger,” he said. “Thanks for letting me play along.”
And then he starts to critique my play.
OK, a couple of the suggestions were helpful. But it just sort of continued.
My buddy was going after his ball up the eighth fairway – he got all of his tee shot and more – and Roger slides up to me to tell me how to get more height on my ball.
Now, I’ve watch him golf now for seven holes, and he’s a step above me in the skill department (although he can putt, I give him that). He managed to hit three trees and a piece of iron that marks the ladies’ tee – and sent two drives into the fairway of holes we were not currently playing.
“You know, Roger, I really don’t care,” I said. “I suck, I know it and I’m just out here to have a little fun and lose a few golf balls.”
He finished out the last two holes a bit faster than us – and promptly joined another twosome.
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