Golf Is For Old People
Golf is for old people...at least that's what I thought when I was in my 20's and 30's. I'd see these old fat guys playing golf on television and it looked so boring, I'd rather watch grass grow. When friends or family would ask me to join them on the course I'd scoff that my walker hadn't been delivered yet or make some other snarky comment related to golf being for the old and decrepit.
In my defense, that's how I remember golf being portrayed in those days. The professionals all seemed old or out of shape. They made what appeared to me as easy swings at a stationary ball and there was no time limit or competitor trying to hurry them or defend against the shot. To provide some background, I grew up fairly athletic, playing sports all my life. I thrived on competition, nothing was better than beating some blocks and making a tackle for a loss or even better, a sack of the quarterback. In my 20's and 30's I hung up the football cleats and started playing racquetball competitively. There wasn't the physical contact of football but it is a great game. Most people think racquet ball is just about running around the court and hitting the ball hard but the reality is it's much more mental than most realize, it's actually high intensity chess when played right, but enough about racquetball, this is a golf blog.
My wife and I had a house built on a golf course in Virginia when I was 35. I thought it would be cool to live on a golf course but still had no desire to play this old mans game. Most of our neighbors were our age with young kids and I was pretty busy with work and being as good a dad as work would allow, which left little or no time for racquetball. We became close friends with some of our neighbors, many of whom were really getting into golf and trying to convince me to try it out since I wasn't playing racquetball anymore, but I still wasn't interested. The guys often hung out together on weekends to watch sports from our man cave equipped garages while the kids played nearby. One Sunday we happened to be hanging out and golf was on, it was the first time I saw Tiger Woods play. I was impressed that someone so athletic and young was playing at such a high level. I wouldn't admit it to them, but my view on golf started to change and I thought to myself, maybe golf wasn't just for old people.
The guys in the neighborhood were planning a big trip to Myrtle Beach and while the golf still didn't appeal to me, the description of the night life after golf sounded fun, I was in. Two weeks before the trip I decided I needed to buy some clubs since I was the only lefty in the group. I went to Sports Authority, bought a set of Knight irons, Dunlop driver, chipper, Wilson putter and a golf bag for a total of $135, I thought to myself, wow, golf is expensive, little did I know how expensive. A friend happily took me to our range and to teach me how to hit a golf ball. I watched him crush the ball and figured it would be easy for me given my past athleticism, boy was I wrong.
I took some ribbing for my Knight irons as they were cheap blade like irons (what did I know) that were not going to offer me much forgiveness. He gave me the basics of the golf swing and I started hacking at the ball under his guidance. It wasn't pretty, between missing the ball completely, shanking it a few feet or just rolling it out into the range I was getting pretty frustrated with myself. How could those old, fat out of shape guys on television make it look so easy and yet I'm struggling. I remember the first shot I got into the air and the feeling of accomplishment I felt that I finally had hit a good shot. Of course, that was an aberration, as I'd only hit a few in the air compared to the many I'd shank or top.
My hands were blistered and bleeding by the time I finished that first medium sized bucket of balls. Despite the pain and all the crappy shots I hit, I went home, bandaged my hands and thought about the good shots I hit (the addiction). I figured next time it would be easier, little did I know my hands were so messed up from over gripping the club I'd only get to visit the range one more time before my trip to Myrtle Beach.
These are the irons that made me the butt of many jokes during my early golf days.
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