What is golf? Some define it as “a game played with a small ball and a bat or club crooked at the lower end. He who drives the ball into each of a series of small holes in the ground and brings it into the last hole with the fewest strokes is the winner.” Hmmm…sounds simple enough. Then why do I love to hate it…and hate to love it?
Golf is a game that I have come to love over the past 5 years or so. Sure I’d played it as an adolescent; but back in the day it was just once or twice a year. Since I became a member of the Murray Hills Golf Course in Wooler, I’ve taken my love of the game to a whole new level.
I’m happy to say that this new level no longer involves wrapping my putter around a tree or trying to set the record for 5 iron tossing. I’ve comfortably settled into the level where my game still stinks on a regular basis but is good enough to keep me thinking that there’s hope of improvement. I’m sure I’m not the only one at this stage in their game. That’s not to say I don’t unintentionally break the odd club from time to time. That’s just normal wear and tear. Ok, I broke the head off a putter while hitting a ball like a baseball after playing a particularly stinky round...but that was a rarity.
One area of my game where I have truly improved over the past couple of years is my vocabulary. I’ve come up with several interesting and never heard combinations of curse words on the links. Now with golf being a gentleman’s sport, I certainly do my best to mutter those profanities under my breath during most occasions. Nevertheless there are times when I don’t quite catch myself soon enough and the odd F-Bomb will slip beyond my lips.
Despite the fact the game can leave me frustrated, fuming, weeping, perplexed and minus a few clubs, all of the bad feelings drift away as I sit with my buddies at the clubhouse drinking a few cold pints while making plans for our next assault on the course.
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