My Golf

I’m 37 years old and I’ve played golf seriously for about half my life. By ‘seriously’ I do not mean that I play professionally, or even that I play often. I do not have a regular Saturday game; I do not have yearly outings with my co-workers, college buddies, or neighbors. I do have a biennial (or is it biannual?) grudge match, but more about that later.

I’ve never been a long hitter. Which would bother me, if I let such things bother me. I’m a solid six feet tall, with an average build. Guys my size, and smaller, routinely out drive me.

Many years ago, I went on a golf outing to the Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail in Alabama, a bachelor party for my brother-in-law. There were, what, probably eight of us there, I suppose. At the time, I was still playing persimmon woods (I’ve since – reluctantly – gone to metal-headed long clubs) and I did not even carry a driver. I was hitting my Ben Hogan persimmon 3-wood about 220 yards off the tees, and getting smoked by 50 yards by various Big Berthas and the like. But you know what? I was in (or near) the fairway on every hole, they were not. I was on or near the green in regulation, they were not. They might be 300 yards off the tee, but I’d roll in my 6 foot up-and-down to win the hole. Every hole. Round after round. I’m like the Pepe le Peu of golf.

(All of that being said, I just got myself an oversize, draw-inducing Ben Hogan driver that I was TOTALLY crushing at the range. If I can keep that in the fairway, and long, I’ll be unstoppable.)

I’m Ben Hogan man, myself. The Hawk. Mr. Hogan. I don’t know why. Perhaps it is the fact that he’s the greatest ball striker in the history of golf?* That might have something to do with it.
I think it might have something to do with my first and only formal golf teacher, Duncan McCallum and it probably also owes something to Justin Leonard winning the Open Championship at Troon in 1997.

That was just about the time I was getting into golf in a very serious way, and the way I’m hard-wired, the Open Championship has always been THE major for me. I like the Masters. I respect the US Open. I watch the PGA. And the Players’.

But I LOVE the Open Championship.

I remember reading about Leonard after he won. It was a dramatic victory; a come-from-behind win, and it was a compelling story. Leonard, a short but accurate hitter (like me, I thought!) a Texan who idolized Ben Hogan and played Ben Hogan sticks. 1988 Apex redlines.

* Are you going to debate me on this? I didn’t say he was the greatest golfer ever. I said he was the greatest striker of the ball. The only people you can talk about in the same sentence are Jack Nicklaus and Tiger Woods. I think Tiger’s a better golfer than Jack. I think time will prove that. Will Tiger ever match Hogan pure execution of the golf shot? I doubt it. Although, his 2005 Open Championship at St Andrews in which he didn’t hit a single bunker over four rounds? That’s pretty strong.

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.