If you don't play, it's all good. If you play and you're really good, bless you (and i hate you, just kidding.) If you play, and you're really bad, like me, welcome to the jungle.
Above all else. I kinda think of that for a lotta people. It's their 'above all else.' People have very diverse forms of 'above all else.' Fishing, hunting, shopping, sewing, eating, drinking, playing video games (may Farmville invitations thankfully rest in peace). Family. Another person. Money. Work. Look at me. I wanna help you. I wanna help doggies, kitties. Smartphones. Caffeine. Grammar. Yelling. Being right. Politics. Gambling. Tattoos. Tanning. Exercise. Social media. Religion. Sex.
Some 'above all else's' are worse than other above all elses. I don't know if we wholly ever devote 100% of our time to an above all else. I think balance oft times is good, and be sure an listen close to my advice because I've been in way too many relationships, had too many dadgum jobs and my 401K is more like a 104K. Har. Humor. I guess humor could be added to above all else. Self deprecation too.
I like golf. Maybe not above all else, cause there's a lotta above all else up there I like too. I think of the man (or woman) on that board that's atop a hard, round object, and you teeter back and forth balancing, trying not to fall on your derriere.
I must admit, I like eating, drinking, shopping (sometimes), Sudoku, family, friends, gambling, doggies, kitties, caffeine, grammar, social media, sex.. and golf. Those who "OMG'ed" me saying sex, be for real, you do too.
I'm six paragraphs in and I really haven't even discussed golf, so it must be only a 'kinda all in' for me. I do love me some golf. Golf is like clothing, there are all kinds. Golf is like eating, there are also all kinds. Golf is unique, like a lot of things.
Golf usually involves having a partner in the cart with you. When Covid first happened, this wasn't allowed. "Only one person per cart." Health department's rules.
We have a foursome, basically the same foursome always. It's kinda like a marriage, who rides with you, and usually it's the same person. No, I don't mean 'oh baby oh baby' marriage, I mean like Ren and Stimpy, Beavis and Butthead, Zach and Screech, Laverne and Shirley, Fred and Barney, Norm and Cliffy, you get the idea.
When you start play, no one knows how you will do. Kinda like waking up in the morning, "what will this day bring?" I suck. Sure I'd love to be good, but how boring, mundane, yucky would that be to hit the ball and know exactly where it's going to go every time. Hell, I get three shots to my partner's one, and I take the scenic path around the course. Again, really good, to me, is boring. Of course that's rationalization, but hey, it's all I've got.
Golf is beautiful. Beautiful I guess, if you love nature. I've seen snakes, owls, squirrels aplenty, deer, herons, Canadian geese, Canadian geese awaiting eggs to hatch, their 'nest' is by the 18th teebox and they squawk like hell if you get near. They cater to these future duckies until hatched from egg, then they hatch, they play a rather cute follow the leader (momma, daddy, duckling, duckling, ducking, duckling, etc, etc).. They learn to fly, whoosh, that's all over. No meeting again for Christmas, no "Dad, can I borrow a hunnerd", No "we're going on vacation can you watch the baby duckies?" That's it. A course of nature. And they do it again the next year. Where was I?
Golf is therapeutic. It is beautiful. Wondrous green manicured lawns with nature, the forest sitting near. It's a right nice place to sit, pray and be thankful - and I've done this on countless occasions.
Dress is all important. For some. For me, it's whatever is clean, whatever fits the weather, doesn't necessarily have to match perfectly, but since I ain't married, I'm left to say to myself "Are you really gonna wear that?" I'm not big on matching things, the newest fads, the looking in the mirror. Some are, an that's ok. It's part of their above all else.
Millionaires. I have played with millionaires. I have noticed, millionaires don't buy tees. They look all about the teebox for tees someone else has left. If they cannot find an unbroken one, they will hunt until they find one suitable to hold the ball. It can be frustrating, because quite honestly one sits in the cart and thinks to themself "He's a GD (gosh darn) millionaire, he's too cheap to buy tees, and he wastes our time doing this (hunting a tee). There are people behind us, we need to scadoodle." Millionaires don't care. It'$ their above all else. Lord have mercy should they hit a ball into the forest. I might as well bring my phone and binge watch Cheyenne while they look for an hour and a half for their ball. Never mind the fact they bought the box of golf balls at Sams or Costco for roughly $1.23 per ball, that be like gold to them.
We po' people. Until I recently 'splurged' for a set of irons on EBay for $75 (that's way too cheap, good irons are in excess of $1500), I had a set of hand me downs, many clubs didn't match. We po' people, we do, pretty frequently, hit 'em in the woods too. There, we take a really brief look, but too, we might come out with four additional balls to play with for a few rounds, and it's kinda our above all else.
Anger. Anger happens on the golf course. I assume it's kinda like being in a relationship, your partner does something that really annoys you, and they do it again, and then again, and, you reach a point you can't take it. So, alternatives are: cussing. Throwing your club. Walking up to find your ball, feverishly, decidedly and purposely hitting it into the woods so far you won't go find it, and don't wanna. You "pickup" in golf lingo, meaning you forfeit the hole and go to the next one.
I, sometimes, love when my buddies have these fits of anger, because I try to resort to humor to make it fun for them. Sometimes it works, sometimes it pisses em off even more and I then I back off. Enjoyment is my above all else, same for most of us, but too, sometimes score is a person's above all else.
Extreme anger for me is usually saying "I'm gonna take up bowling instead,", or, "Damnit darnit". Or,"Victor, don't be an idiot and turn one mistake into two.' But.. but.. if it gets really bad, that's when I take out a pink ball I found (don't shoot me ladies please) because it's the only color I really deserve to play with. Forgive me Father for I have played with MANY female golfers who are better than I, it's just the idea of a pink ball = sissy, wimp.
Guys don't open up much. Somehow, the golf course changes that. We do. We learn all about marriages, kids, grandkids, car woes, body parts hurting, arguments, travel, you name it, we talk about it. The one no-no I have noticed is men don't kiss and tell. Not that sex isn't talked about, it's just you don't talk about your own.
Gimmes. Gimmes cause more consternation than virtually anything else in golf. A gimme is when your opponent hits a ball so close to the hole you 'concede' that he's going to make it and he doesn;t have to putt. When betting, this can get intense. You get back in the cart with your partner after an opponent refused to say "That's good" and you hear things like "That asshole, his putt on #7 was twice as far and I gave it to him." I get it, but too, I get a kick out of folks getting all shiver me timbers excited.
So... the round is finished, you head to the car to put your clubs up, take the cart back to the clubhouse, head inside for refreshments. Bets are paid up, sometimes someone will grab the card from the scorekeeper, which provides another shiver me timbers moment, "What? You don't trust me?" Ha!
One sip, golf is forgotten, then it's on to discussion about much. Current events, past events, future events. Problems (or good things) about spouses, kids, grandkids, neighbors, common friends, coworkers, past lovers, knee replacement, hip replacement, "Another beer please" replacement, "Did you hear about so and so?" "No, i don't remember so and so." "Remember so and so in high school and how pretty she was? Well, I'm here to tellya" and it's proceeded to tell how one has declined, and we, guys who sit with belts ten inches longer than back in the day, are astonished. Uusally though, it's all very good and happy talk. If it wasn't, why would we go and do it?
Golf is my place to go and forget about just leaving the auto fixer shop with $887 worth of new brakes and a new power steering high pressure hose. It's my back to nature. It's my back to friends. It's my "moving, not dying yet." With buddies I've known for 60 years, it's my home. They are very nice to me and I try to respond in kind. Kind is a good thing.
I love any, every thing about golf. Even golf itself. It's not for all, and that's ok. It's one of my 'above all else's.
By Henry Gibson. Fore ward by Chi Chi Rodriguez.
Love, Victurd
*Editor's note. There is much luck in a hole in one. I have seen two of my buddies do it. Many play forever never having one. Some, with luck, get more than one. One summer, I played faithfully, Monday through Friday, 18 holes a day, walking. I never approached skinny, but I was close. I play on a par 3 course. All holes are par 3. You figure playing five times a week, that's 90 holes a week, all summer - your odds for a hole in one are halfway decent. Again, I'm NOT a good golfer. Luck happens. I got one. There was a mark 5' from the hole where it hit and it rolled right in. I WAS ALONE. As in, there ain'tno ain'tno witnesses (ceptin me an God.) It takes a human witness for it to count. Telling this only because it really fits the nature of this blog, Check Engine Light. Above all else, it's why I write.
No comments:
Post a Comment