Golf---O, Well
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.
Crap.
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.
enough