That Damn Game Called Golf – How To Play Or Not To Play

The “trials and tribulations” of that game called golf.

This is a sport I've played for 53 years and still don't fully understand. There are the days you play and the ball flies straight and true and others that it does the oddest of things. “Your swing is off, your too close to the ball, back swing too fast, swinging out to in” all misgivings of experts given by those playing with you.

The sport was never designed for mastering, to such a degree that we can all call ourselves Tiger Woods, and it even seems to have beaten him lately. What then is the attraction to continue playing this God forsaken game? The very hope that one day you will become its master.

When a player begins, their concentration, their very wish, is the ability to hit the ball, to play eighteen holes without a “fresh air” shot. This takes a long time, the Gods of golf that move the ball without one seeing, somewhere between addressing the ball, the back-swing and the stroke. It's never moved much, because when you look again it seems still in the same place, but it had to have moved for you to miss it. It could never been something you did wrong.

When the ability to play without the odd “fresh y” been reached the next step, to get that odd sounding thing a “handicap”. Why it's so named, anyone’s guess, at that stage of your sports development the game itself considered a handicap. The elusive ability to play within the allowable strokes for the handicap given, difficult, yet the more you try the closer you come. Then it happens you have that day, the ball flies high and long, the second to the green and with two putts the ball in the hole. The jubilation, excitement, the feeling of achievement. The next hole the same and after nine holes it looks like a winning day for you. The next nine go well and the score unbelievable, you're in with a chance for a win. Quick shower and then the wait for the Club Captain to announce the winner. Your name called, you've won, that first competition win under the belt.

This perks the need to return again, a winning streak imagined, how well can I play today, into the pro-shop to pay and register. Then it happens, he informs you, your handicap cut, you've played so well your down two strokes. Panic strikes this seems so unfair, how can it be, you only played well once, but the nuances of the handicap devil has made sure he is going to spoil your next outing.

This continues for years until the specialities of the game are better understood, and the abilities attained for a more consistent game. Winning more, handicap cutting no longer a panic, and you reach your peak, stand aside Tiger here I come. Then it happens, the day the golf ball discovers it can send you half mad by performing tricks you're unaware it can do. The brain starts to analysis (or tries to) what is going wrong, you're an accomplished consistent performer, what's wrong? Those playing with you start to give hints of advise, they've never seen you play like this for years. Every shot becomes a lesson run through the brain and the ball will still not do what you expect. This can continue for many rounds till the brain manages to over power the ball's willpower to do its own tricks, and again all is good till the next time. The ups and downs of the game, just as in any other sport.

This is what is known as that damn game called golf, the greatest destroyer of people's egos ever discovered.