Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Fore. Four. For.


So, we decided to play some golf.

Do you have any idea how hard golf is? How frustrating it can be? How demanding it becomes. You almost become a slave to it. And the equipment– my goodness it is an expensive sport. The other day some friends wanted us to go and play a round with them at a prestigious course. (We have no business being out on a prestigious course because we will dig it up surely.) The cost for such an outing was going to be over $200. Each.

No way. Not on my watch.

But we persisted and have slowly learned the game. I actually don’t trust a sport where the low score wins. It somehow reminds me of the Electoral College, which isn’t a real school, nor a good idea.

But golf has this captivating way of sucking you in., It lets you do quite well the first few times you go out onto a manicured grassy lawn and play the game. It is like a drug dealer. Come. Enjoy.  And you do. It is fun and you have the ability to compete with Tiger Woods. I mean the first few times you hit the ball straight and all your putts seem to drop in the tiny hole.

But then…

Then comes the TRUTH. You are not very good. And golf shows you this in mean and cruel ways. Your drives go sideways. You lose fifty balls (And that’s just on the first three holes.) You putts run long or stop short depending on which you do not need to happen. Your score is triple your age, regardless of when you were born. And in the end, you find aches and pains and blisters in places you never knew possible.

Then…

Golf lets you have a good day.

You recover your confidence. You buy a new putter (after all your old one is bent around an oak tree on the 15th green.) You buy better shoes and golf glove and a new sun visor. You look the part.

But then…

Golf laughs at you in the face. You develop a hook. Or a slice. Or you start standing up  every time you try and hit the ball. Golf laughs at you.

And so it goes. You are addicted. Your crack is a tiny white ball. Your sin is trying to believe you are any good at this game. And your punishment is one more round.

We’re going to play golf this morning. I have warned you and I have warned God…close your ears. The laughter will be golf’s. the cursing will be mine.



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