Published: April 30, 2008 06:11 pm            

VALLEY: Still swinging at 85

Golf! What’s up with that? How does it become so intoxicating? How does it become so addictive? Once you’re hooked, it’s like an incurable rash — no matter how much you scratch where it itches, it won’t go away. In fact, the more you scratch — the worse it gets. It spreads! It cannot be satiated. That’s why I hate it! And, admittedly, I have succumbed to its all-empowering grip. I’m as close to the stage of full-blown hacker as one can get.

I think the word GOLF is an acronym for: Go Out — Leave Frustrated. What’s especially perturbing is the fact that — other than, maybe, bowling — it’s the only sport that doesn’t have a defense to stop you. There’s no one out there trying to keep you from your goal: There’s no goalie blocking the ball as it rolls toward the cup; there’s no fielder catching your ball in mid-flight; there’s no 300 pound lineman barreling down on you as you swing the club. You’re on your own. Misplays have no built-in excuse.

Of course, that doesn’t stop this guy from blaming everything and everyone else for my inadequacies. “Did you see how tall that tree grew from the short time that I started my swing?” And the usual, “But the hole WAS over here the other day.”

Other golfers, knowing that I’m fairly new to the game, have offered kind suggestions. “Tom,” a fellow-golfer explained, “that’s not really a T-grip handle on your putter. You have it upside-down.”

Perhaps, I’m wrong — maybe, the DEFENSE is: Yourself. You are the only thing stopping your own game from being a satisfying experience. And this defense comprises itself of: Lack of talent, lack of concentration and absolutely no golf savvy. That being said, I guess I can take pride in the fact that I have the best damn defense in golf. Hey! I’m number one! Alrighty then!

Bob Hope once described an incident he experienced on the links (note the hip golf-lingo: “links”). He talked about the time he was at the tee-box area where you start each hole. Someone told him to move back a foot as he was ahead of the designated markers that indicate where the ball should be placed.

Hope replied, “It’s my second shot.”

Been there! Done that!

And unless you are really good at the game, I don’t think it makes a big difference in the type of equipment you use. My brother once stepped on one of my clubs and it broke. The particular club he broke was my driver. So, he went out and bought me a new one. It was a K-Mart special. I used it until recently when the pressure of keeping up with the Bobby Joneses forced me to buy a big-name club for a couple of hundred dollars. And to be honest, I got no more distance with the pricey one. I’d get about a 15-yard drive with both.

Not that there’s a possibility of suffering more self-inflicted discouragement, but I read about a guy who had a hole-in-one a couple of weeks ago. The guy was 85 years old. Eighty-five! Where does that put me on the list of great golfers? That’s great for the old-timer and quite an accomplishment. And I can only imagine the joy that he experienced in accomplishing such a feat. But for God’s sake, he was also blind.

Golf! What’s up with that?

And that’s the way it looks from the Valley.

Tom Valley is a Medina resident who writes a column every Wednesday for The Journal-Register. Write to Tvalley@rochester.rr.com.

        

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