Looking for another player to round out your four-some? Occasionally such an invitation comes my way, but I do my dead-level best to discourage it. It’s not that an outing or a walk on a nice day is not enjoyable. Not that at all. It’s just that if I wish to subject myself to that kind of language, I’d go to church.
My favorite place at the club is the 19th hole. I have no trouble keeping my head down in there, due to the chance of seeing someone who thinks I owe them money. Can play the 19th straight up, and never have a bad shot. On the other 18, I’d need too many chasers.
People ask me about my handicap, which I think is too personal. I have many. One is lower back and hip pain my doctor referred to as “sciatica”. That’s not a facility in upstate New York for the criminally insane as some of you might think. No, it’s an inflammation of what my mother calls my “psychotic nerve”. If it weren’t for malaprops, Mama might have no props at all. Asked what she was watching on television, and she said it was a documentary on polio bears living on the ice burgers.
Back discomfort is not the only thing that hampers me. I’m also far-sighted, but that’s okay, as I never get very close to the pin, anyway. I can triple-bogey a driving range. My clubs don’t need new grips because I have Dupuytren’s contracture–well defined in my left hand and developing in my right. No problem gripping the shaft firmly, but letting go often requires WD-40. The most comfortable golf glove for me would look like a catcher’s mitt.
Pro said my average game has more slices than a truckload of watermelons. He criticized my clubs, saying they were intended for a younger player. But I just think he has some prejudice against the “Nerf” brand. Well, not all my clubs. My driver is a Louisville Slugger. Asked me if I’d considered a caddy. Told him I’d considered it, but for budgetary reasons, we’d settled on a Buick.
Always carry 18 balls to the course, because that’s how many I intend to hit. As for scoring, I always mark down “18”. All I do is tee off–not just the ball, but all the other players with me. Once I’ve hit the golf ball, there isn’t much point in looking for it, as it has sure to have gone…somewhere. Besides, most golf carts don’t have four-wheel drive. For me to attempt a retrieval does require a current valid hunting license. So, I just move on to the next tee box, and whack another one into oblivion.
When I’m playing conservatively, I just hit the tee. Saves money, and doesn’t endanger as many innocent bystanders. If you don’t mind, I’d like to use an ultra-light rod with open faced reel and four pound test line to play the water hazards. Hope I passed the test, and look forward to hearing from you soon.