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Golf---O, Well

John W. Pinkerton


The other day I thought about my last round of golf. 

About three years ago, a new friend invited me to play a round of golf with him.  My new friend is a metal sculptor and younger than I am, but a very nice fellow who was obviously desperate for a playing partner.  After some reluctance---after all it had been a year or so since I had played my last game---I agreed.

I've loved golf from an early age---that and bourre…but I digress.  I've always been terrible at the game, but “beat me, hurt me, make me write bad checks”---I always went back to it.

From the first shot that day, I felt that something had changed---that something had slipped away.  It was a little surreal.  I made it around the course as best I could.  The biggest change was the distance I was able to hit my driver.  I never had great distance, but on this day…just ridiculous. 

Like most of the games I've played through the years, I still remember details.  The detail I remember most strongly was a putt I sank of about 25 feet that would have been a challenge for the greatest players of the ages.

That was the seventeenth hole.  At the conclusion of the eighteenth hole, I offered my new friend an extreme wedge that my brother had given me.  I suspected that I wouldn't be needing it in the future.

Apparently I was right. Since then I've had numerous health issues including a heart attack.  I'm beginning to wonder what other activity I'm fond of will need to be folded away and placed in a chest. 


Oh, well.  March on.

By the way, my new friend played extremely well finishing, I believe, with six straight pars.  Good on him.

On my way home, I was thinking, “Maybe the balls had lost their zip (no jokes please) maybe…maybe…oh Hell, it's probably over.”

I never played another round…even when asked.  Over is over.  I seldom watch golf on television now. 

After the Masters, the beginning of spring for me, was canceled this year, I noted that it had made me a little sad to think about the loss of the Masters...and my game. 

Oh, well, I shamble on.