I love the game of golf.
I love to play golf.
I love to watch golf.
I love to read about the history of golf.
I took up golf in 1983 in
Why I tried again after that experience I don’t remember.
Golf is a silly game of chasing a little white ball only played by boring old men who wear funny clothes. Or so we thought. And I know Dad was disappointed by our ignorance.
Paul bought me my first set of clubs. I do not remember if I ever paid him back or not. If not, I hope he doesn’t read this or he may charge me interest.
As I remember, he paid $58.00 for a used set of Lynx Masters. Fancy for their day, with the face of a Lynx cast on the back of each club.
They were laden with lead tape, heavily coated on the bottom of each by a senior who obviously wanted to increase the distance. It took most of a day on the patio peeling that tape off.
I remember those irons so well. I should. I still play them. They are the only irons I have ever owned. And I can hit each one pure and crisp.
At the same time, our parents had just moved from
So it seemed to be destined that golf would become a family endorsed component of our life. That year for Christmas, my parents gave me a Sam Snead Blue Ridge driver. And I learned to pummel that thing 300 yards plus.
My brother and I would wake up on Christmas morning, sneak out on the 13th tee beside their apartment building, and play all the way around back to the 12th green. The course was closed for Christmas day, so we would carry our bags discretely and shoot greens with no flags in the holes.
Those were probably the best Christmas mornings I knew until my daughters were born.
At that time I worked a job at night, and got off work at 7:00 am. I would leave work and go right to the municipal course of my choosing.
I would arrive and usually play before the club-house was open, navigating the sprinklers, and explaining to the grounds crew that I would pay when I reached the club house. I don’t remember ever being refused.
After a couple years of playing every day all year around, I was pretty good. I could shoot in the 70’s consistently, and sometimes even go below par. My forearms and hands were very strong and tan, with the left hand giving me away as a constant player because the glove I wore resulted in a pale white skin tone.
I could hit a long tee shot consistently with my
And Paul could always beat me. I can’t remember one time I ever beat him.
For a brief period before I moved to
I don’t remember Paul ever washing a single dish in that apartment.
When I moved to
And then I moved to
I do love golf.
I love everything about golf
But I am awfully glad that I don’t have to play golf to earn my living.