Pre-Ramble: Every Sunday afternoon (except when it’s raining, snowing, too hot, too cold, or there’s something else happening at the same time), my husband and I play 9 holes of golf.
In case I haven’t mentioned it, my husband is a rabid golfer. In fact, “rabid” really doesn’t cover the extent to which he embraces the game. (I won’t mention here that he collects golf rule books as a hobby, because that might be unnecessarily disclosive and embarrassing.)
Golf is life. Well, so, my golfer husband’s favorite tag line is, “Golf is life.” As in, … there isn’t anything that life can throw at you that can’t be paralleled in the experience of playing a round of golf.
Really?! Please! When I hear this “Golf is life” business, I usually roll my eyes and come back with some sort of impudent response like, “Nah-ah!” I refuse to believe that anything as frustrating and nonessential as a game of golf could actually have anything to do with the kind of weighty issues we face in our day-to-day lives.
When in real life are we called upon to hit a small white ball over several hundred feet of tweaked up grass with a shiny stick while wearing plaid and goofy shoes … except when we’re playing golf? Heck; it’s easy to say that “golf is life” if you’re good at golf (which golfer-hubby is). And, it’s easy to be good at golf when you play all the time (which golfer-hubby does).
For the rest of us, golf really does dish out a dizzying array of experiences – good and bad. Even a fair weather golfer like myself will tell you that there is nearly nothing better than hitting a really good golf shot. There’s a special feel and a special sound associated with a really good shot, and, of course, the ball lands somewhere amazing in relation to the cup (golf jargon for the hole that you’re trying to get the ball into). Of course, on the other end of the continuum there’s also a legendary amount of things that can go wrong in a round of golf as well.
Dang-it! Anyway, today on the ninth hole (the last one in a 9-hole round – duh) I duffed my tee-shot. This means that I hit it so poorly off of the little tee-stand thing that is just trickled like 50 feet or so into the deep grass before the fairway (not a good shot). Not wanting to end the 9-hole round on such a hideous note, I lunged for my bag to get another ball. NOTE: For those of you who are sticklers for the rules, I intended to (and did) play my poor shot through to the finish and use it in computing my final score for the round.
So, I ended up pulling a pink ball (not it above) out of my bag, teed it up and slammed it high and long into the middle of the fairway (a super good shot). At that moment I decided to play BOTH balls – the icky first white ball tee-shot and the second super-good pink ball tee-shot - to see which one would end up making it to the hole in the fewest shots.
I won’t bore you (too late - already have) with a tedious recount of the shot-by-shot on the two balls (btw – golfer-husband can give you the shot-by-shot on every game he’s ever played in his entire life), however I will tell you that in the end (spoiler alert!) … even though one sputtered off to a very tenuous start and the other went sailing, as though on wings, into the stratosphere – BOTH BALLS ended up getting into the hole in the EXACT SAME NUMBER OF STROKES.
This is notable for two reasons: 1) I am stunned that I could hit such a decent score (par) on a hole two times concurrently; and 2) it demonstrates the very “Golf is life” analogy that I so stridently mock/poo-poo (mock-poo?).
The Take-Away: Never give up on things, even if they seem to be going badly. Just when you think you’re a goner in the rough (the deep unforgiving grass outside of the fairway) … you end up spanking a 7 iron, bouncing off the cart-path and chipping onto the green (the sweet short grass within a putt-able distance from the hole) for a birdie (one under par – a good score)!