I love golf. It’s a beautiful game. So pure. So perfect. Man versus land. The ups. The downs. The perfect shot. The crisp greens. The beer cart.
Spring is upon us and soon it will be time to rally the boys and head to the course. A place where we can hide from the woes of the world for a few hours and simply enjoy manly companionship.
I can hardly wait.
It’s time for me to get to the driving range and knock off the rust. I need to get my iron game cleaned up and see if I can find some consistency with the Thunder Stick.
If you happen to see me out there, come say hello. Perhaps we will have a brew together. Perhaps we will discuss how Justin Thomas is a fraudulent prick. Perhaps we will watch each other swing and say golf things like, “Good Ball” and “That dog will hunt”.
But if you come out there chocked full of tips for my swing I will snap the head off my 3-Wood and shove the shaft in your eye.
I’m not looking to be a tour pro and spoiler alert: You’re no Tiger Woods. Shooting an 80 one day when you played by yourself does not make you a swing coach.
When I show up to the course I don’t have unrealistic hopes and wishes. I’m there to try and catch a bird or two and not three putt.
I don’t care if I slice a ball three towns over, as long as there’s still a barley pop in the cooler and the suns shining, I’ll be okay.
I don’t need you to tell me how to fix my stance, you worry about you and I’ll worry about me. Don’t tell me where to put my hands unless you want them around your throat.
I’ll find my swing, I always do. Then I’ll lose it again. Then I’ll find it again.
You’ve played the game, you understand.
If I want tips I’ll ask or I will pay someone who gives tips for a living.
It’s not because I think I don’t need help.
I suck. It’s true.
But once you tell me something, which probably isn’t what’s wrong with my swing, it will stay in my head. It will haunt me. I will try to be fix it and ultimately screw ten other things up in the process. I will attempt to care about my game. I will lose sight of why I came to the course in the first place, to drink beer and hide from my wife.
You stay in your lane and I’ll stay in mine. I will be happier and you will draw another breath.
You see the benefits for both of us, right?
See you out there!