On Golf

I prefer to golf alone; I prefer to golf in the rain.
I always walk.

I try to have fun, but golf, qua golf, does not lend itself to having fun.
Golf is great for developing frustration, anger, disappointment, despair.
But not fun.

There’s that old saying that in baseball: you can fail seven times out of ten and make it to the Hall of Fame. Your average golfer will take between 85 and 105 shots per round. It’s a good day when three of those ninety plus shots go where you want. Math has never been my forte, but I think that would equate to about a .003 batting average. A little below the Mendoza line.

But the great thing about golf is that it’s that one great shot per round that gets you back. That’s what brings me back, anyway.

That’s the other thing about golf; while it breeds disappointment, frustration, failure – I think I’ve hit one completely satisfying shot this entire summer. It’s August. ONE shot left the club exactly as I had intended. (And it ended up being short of the green. But what a lovely shot.) – but I KNOW I could go out this evening and shoot par; I could play a regulation 18-hole course in 72 strokes.

I just know I could.
What’s stopping me?

Fairway. Green. Two putts.
18 times in a row. It’s almost TOO easy.

The lure of golf.