Hole Number One: I place my golf ball on the tee and pick up my driver, feeling good. It’s a fine summer day with warm sun and blue skies. I swing my club correctly and strike the ball. Okay, so it doesn’t gain height and scuttles along the ground, what everyone calls a “worm burner,” but travels an okay distance. I’m not upset. Sometimes things like this happen on the first shot.
Hole Number Two: Not much different. Except this time my golf ball ends up in the Poplar River. Hmm. Well I’ve been in that river before and probably will be again, so my spirit is undaunted. I’ll collect my thoughts and get on the right track. Unfortunately, my first putt zooms too far, my second putt comes up short and I three putt. Hmm again. This score climbed higher than planned. Ah, well, mustn’t think negative. I hum a little tune under my breath.
Hole Number Three: My drive is good, far and straight, but my second shot lands in a bunker. As I flail my way out of the sand, getting a good amount in my hair-and don’t ask me how I managed that I have no idea—the words “oh oh” come to mind. Am I going to have one of THOSE days?
Hole Number Four: One word. Rats!
Hole Number Five: Double Rats!
Hole Number Six: I must pull myself together. I’m beginning to feel very cranky, but if I get a grip on my state of mind, I can still pull myself out of this mess. (Yah. A little voice taunts, “What are ya gonna do? Par every hole?”) I shrug off this nasty little voice and very calmly hit the ball. Which flies high and far, right into the woods, never to be seen again.
Hole Number Seven: I manage to quell the desire to chop down that huge pine tree in the middle of the course—the one that bounced my ball almost back into my forehead.
Hole Number Eight: I’m past cranky but hide it. No one likes a poor sport. Teeth gritted, knuckles white. I flub and dub my way down the fairway, no longer impressed by the beauty of the day or the camaraderie of other golfers. I agonize over my total loss of golfing skills. Everything learned over the past eight years has disappeared. Might as well quit.
A sweet thought occurs.
I could quit. I don’t have to play this game. No one is forcing me. Problem solved
Hole Number Nine: Calmly I approach the tee. This will be my last shot ever. Never have to worry about a golf score again. I swing the club and send the ball far and straight. Beautiful. I line up for my second shot, swing again and the ball soars a good distance. Suddenly I am close to the green.
The bad game I’ve been playing and my bad mood dissipate when I realize I’m near the green in two shots. But things get even better. I manage a perfect pitch and finish by smoothly putting the ball, sending it gently into the hole. PAR!
Maybe I won’t quit just yet. Next Wednesday looks like a good day. I think I’ll make a tee time.
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