There are two golfs, pure and simple: The Bad golf and the Good
golf. By
”
Bad
”
and
”
Good
”
I do not mean the quality of your game. We all stink.
There are two golfs, pure and simple: The Bad golf and the Good golf. By “Bad” and “Good” I do not mean the quality of your game. We all stink.
No, I am talking deep here. What is at the heart of why you play the game?
Let me illustrate my point by listing some ways that you might be able to recognize Bad Golfers and Good Golfers.
You are a Bad Golfer if:
• You can’t hit it out of your shadow, but it takes you three minutes to line up a 10-foot putt, which you proceed to hit five feet past the hole.
• You own golf wear by Ashworth.
• You would never walk.
• You can’t hit it out of your shadow, but you’d spend $500 on a titanium head graphite shafted driver before you’d spend a nickel on lessons.
• You follow Clint Eastwood at the Pebble Beach AT&T and you wear your golf spikes in the gallery.
• Your golf bag has the name of an equipment manufacturer on it.
• Your golf pants are pleated.
You are a Good Golfer if:
• You walk unless they make you ride (which irritates you).
• You play the ball down.
• You’re upset that your shirt has to have a collar.
• You putt everything out “no gimmes.”
• There is an old, tattered copy of “Golf in The Kingdom” on your bookshelf.
• Your scoring pencil doesn’t have an eraser.
• Shivas Irons is your personal savior.
I grew up in a town that has an 85-year-old, nine-hole goat track of a golf course. When my buddies and I played in the early ’60s, we looked like an episode of “Li’l Rascals” – canvas bags filled with ancient hand-me-down clubs, the strap over our shoulder, the bottom of the bag dragging along the patchy turf as we walked along. On Mondays, kids played for 55 cents. A monthly ticket was $10 in summer, $8 in winter. There were no starting times, no carts. All the balls you needed were to be found in the creeks or your grandfather’s amazing wooden apple box that was full of balls. 18 holes took three hours to play. Here was the essence of the game.
This isn’t some fashion show or a cocktail party. No. This is the game that gave new meaning to the word “confounding.” This is the game that if you gave a set of clubs to an accomplished Himalayan yogi, then gave him 10 years to master the game, it would probably transform him into the Unibomber. It is the path to enlightenment or institutionalized insanity.
The golf boom of the 1990s has given us new and better courses to choose from, but there has been a price to pay. Now, we must set aside six hours, $150, and reserve a time one month in advance using the keypad on our phone, not to mention all the logo-wearing, putt-stalking, cart-driving, divot-digging Bad golfers in their pleated pants who don’t respect the game.
It is time that someone steps forward and tackles this issue of Bad golfers that has been totally ignored by both political parties. Some say that we should not oversimplify issues, stereotype people and indiscriminately persecute them. Balderdash. I just hope it is not too late for persecution to work.
So, Good golfers, rise up against the forces of the Bad Golf. Practice the gospel of Shivas Irons as laid down in “Golf in The Kingdom. “Walk, if you are able. Stamp out logos wherever they lurk. The game should be played in shorts, a T-shirt and paid for with whatever is in your pocket. Putt everything out. Play with respect.
