I don’t admit to being much of a book reader: I tend to read books for information or for escape. I don’t read books to find meaning in my life. I read books that make me laugh, tell me a few stories, and while away the winter hours when my gal isn’t around.
The Fine Green Line, by John Paul Newport, is not going to change your life. It won’t reveal any of your inner truths and it won’t improve your sex life. It won’t make you finally understand your father, your mother, your alter ego, or your fear of clowns. The Fine Green Line isn’t about money and it won’t tell you how to make any. In fact, it’ll cost you $12.95.
The book details John Paul Newport’s quest to experience life as a two-ish handicapper playing the professional golf mini tours (the image to the right tells you that). It leads JPN through a series of states, tournaments, bad shots, and lands him at the first stage of PGA Tour Q-School where he unceremoniously bombs, landing him in a Golf Week article about “bums of Q-School.”
Along the way, readers are treated to an irreverent look at the world of golf and a few of the characters in it. This is not John Feinstein material – Newport never more than glances at any character besides himself – but that’s not the purpose. Unfortunately, Newport himself isn’t terribly interesting or likeable, and I didn’t find myself rooting one way or the other for him. He’d shoot a bad score and move on to the next tournament, dragging me along into the next chapter.
The back sleeve of the book describes Newport’s journey playing America’s mini tours as “wild,” but there’s nothing wild about it. No hookers, no midnight golf tournaments, and no mad dashes to the top of the leaderboard. There’s hardly any drinking, his $500 car doesn’t break down in the middle of a hail storm, and the biggest decision Newport faces has to do with what socks to wear. To say the book is a tad tedious at times is being kind.
I don’t care what Newport shoots in a tournament. It’s always bad, and the guy’s a professional writer. He’s out of his league, ostensibly playing in tournaments in an attempt to fulfill a fantasy or dream: play professional golf. That’d be fine – a captivating tale, perhaps – but we’re constantly reminded that Newport is really playing for the experience… so he can write this book. “JP” doesn’t experience the mini tours as a player, but as a writer pretending to be a player (and his scores reflect that).
I kept reading this book because I’m a golfer, and despite his blandness, I know what he’s talking about. There’s a comfort level that golfers share among one another when talking about the latest gadget or tip, playing in the rain, or having a miracle round. A shared frustration and understanding when you’re playing badly. Reading about someone else’s experience with the game always allows us an opportunity to reflect on our own, and in doing so we don’t feel so alone.
If that’s worth thirteen bucks to you, then go ahead and pick up The Fine Green Line. If not, well, then there are certainly a lot of other well-written golf books out there. Might I suggest one by John Feinstein?