This past weekend in a whirlwind of golf, long summer days, visiting childhood friends, and getting pulled over by Wisconsin state troopers looking for drivers drinking and driving on a Saturday night, the highlight was one solitary moment among it all, the white whale/ Holy Grail that all golfers hope to catch one day almost fell into my lap- a hole in one.
I am terrible at golf; my first exposure was in 7th grade where the P.E. teachers created a makeshift driving range in the field to let students whack away with subpar clubs to see if they could even make contact with the ball; I could barely do so. Over the years of being an adult it's always been an afterthought to go golfing, not a preferred option but done a few times when I fell into it. It really is a rich man's sport; not only does the golfer need to buy a set of clubs, but then course fees, buying golf balls, tees, plus appropriate golfing gear figures into it, and that's not even considering the country club fees that some private courses charge to even be considered admission into their prestigious, often-watered and exquisitely- maintained courses. Watching Tiger Woods drive 300 yards and conquer the Majors tournaments during his time was enough for me.
So of course when I played with my friends who were much better at golf than me this weekend, I was lost: constantly slicing the ball, often missing the ball entirely, never mastering how to actually hit an iron, and pulling out the driver every time a tee was involved because its large club face was the only way I could somehow make contact with the ball. I hit balls into water, into wild fields, into the woods, behind me, all over the place. It was a wonder I didn't die of embarrassment. The one thing I could actually handle was putting; I've always enjoyed games of minigolf and the fine precision required for rolling the ball up towards the hole, and actually holed in a 10 to 12 footer to the stunned amazement of the foursome I was golfing with.
As the day went along, I learned how to work my slicing drive into my advantage by aiming way off to the left and then allowing the ball to curve back towards the course. At one par 3, I pulled out the driver, took aim, tried to keep my left arm straight (I've learned that I'm using my arms and wrists way too much when swinging, instead of properly using my hips) and let it rip......the club met ball with that familiar sweet "clank" that all golfers are familiar with and keep golfers coming back, that sound coupled with the gratifying feeling of looking up from your swing and seeing the ball moving (hopefully) precipitously and in a straight line screaming towards the hole. Because it was a par 3, the hole was less than 170 yards away, and the ball actually ended up on the green! And it looked like it was headed towards the flag! "Hole in one!" I yelled almost just jokingly to share my excitement, and my golf partners gave that small "oohhhh" of anticipation....and then it happened: the ball hit the flagstock, bouncing off of it harmlessly without any anticipation of actually dropping into the hole, and noticeably changing direction. "Oooooooohhhhh!!" I exclaimed as if I could feel the impact of the ball bouncing off the stick, even though I could only see it like a tiny speck off in the distance. At that moment I understood why so many adults take up golf: that feeling of achievement of doing exactly what you wanted with the ball, and the ever-elusive hole in one, much more satisying than shooting a basketball through the net because it's so much rarer to do it with a golf ball (it's like that gratifying feeling of the ball dropping into the cup after a successful putt, rattling around and sounding like a pin pong ball finding its home). No matter that I'd used a driver which caused the ball to be on one too much of a line drive and way too fast to actually drop in the hole: regardless I'd gotten pretty much as close to getting a hole in one as I will probably ever get. I should probably just retire from the sport now; I've done all I can do.
Oh and we drove golf carts! It's just one more cost to the golfing experience, but it really enhances it, especially on a hot day of having walked so many holes, and definitely beats carrying clubs everywhere. The wind in one's face driving the golf cart, plowing through the well-manicured course just enjoying the day and heading towards the ball that one hit with a steel club.......that really is the high life, and I can see why so many golfers love doing it.
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