Is it a Good Walk Spoiled?

When I was a young boy, I had no concept of golf. People with clubs in my quirky neighborhood in Baltimore were convicted or wannabe felons to stay away from – not genteel sportsmen looking to spoil a walk. The first time I saw it, my grandfather had it on the television. I thought the television was broken and asked him why he was watching a test pattern with a greenish hue. My grandfather was not an avid fan, did not watch it often, likely thought I was the family idiot who asked stupid questions and therefore, had no response.

As I got older, I grew to associate it with the rich. I think that is normal given how it was advertised and positioned in the 1970s. Living in my still quirky neighborhood in Baltimore, those golf courses might as well have been on the moon. Because my family was tightrope walking the poverty line and because I associated the sport of golf with rich people, I could not have been more disconnected and adversarial towards the game.

So, why do I have a set of clubs in my garage at the moment? Well, it began when ambivalence set in. Leaving the military and entering the teaching profession, people that I grew to like and befriend liked the sport. Some played it. Nearly all of them had some association with the sport. I did not understand it. These folks were not of the upper echelon of society – they were regular Joes like me. What did they see in this sport? What allure did it hold? Ambivalence grew into curiosity but even as these emotions sprang forth, I chastised myself. What was I doing? This was not me. But then, my friends were playing it. It can’t be that bad.

About six years ago, my professional mentor, an avid fan, convinced me out onto the course. It should come as no surprise that I was about as bad as one could be at an endeavor sincerely approached. However, the fact that I was horrible was not a deterrent. I was a fairly athletic man, having played a slew of sports. It was curious that I was so horrible at this. My ineptitude drew me deeper into the game. One thing I did know prior to first walking upon a golf green was that the golf cart girls were supposed to be cute. However, upon my initiation, I learned that the muny courses do not have girls like that. Some of them are even guys, much to my disappointment.

Now, I play on a semi-regular basis – either a round or on the driving range. As time as gone, I’ve also figured out the allure to this mysterious game. It is being with friends and being outside. I’ve played pool for years with a group of friends and what drew me to those weekly two hour sessions was the camaraderie. This is what golf has to offer. It does not matter that my play sets the history of golf back two hundred years. It does not matter that sometimes I whiff on the ball so hard, I nearly screw myself into the ground. I’m with friends, I’m enjoying a nice day and I’m also gaining a little exercise. I’ve even caught myself, not for long mind you, watching a little golf on television. I’ve found that I like the sport. If I'm lucky, my grandfather no longer sees me as the family idiot. Maybe.