golf? really?

Julie: "Wait a minute, you're telling me you have your own set of golf clubs?" she says, fighting disbelief.  I detect the slightest traces of a snicker in that sweet little voice of hers.

Me: "Yep.  They're baby blue."

Julie: "I have your permission to give you a hard time about this, right?"  What she good-naturedly means but does not say is, "I know you're trying to be a supportive wife and all, but golf?  Now you've officially gone off the reservation."

Yes, friends, I went golfing for the first time on Thursday night.  I was speaking with an acquaintance at work and told her that Justin was resuming golf now that the weather was finally starting to appear almost June-like, but that he kept on having a hard time scheduling with his buddy.  "Well, you should totally just head out there and play, too," Pamela said.

I mentioned this conversation to Justin when we were out to lunch later that day, and his eyes took on a shine the way they do when I say something like, "Man! When is it going to be football season again?" or, "Sure, grilled cheese and tomato soup sounds good for lunch."  "Play another game of DOTA.  You've earned it."

(Ok, so actually I don't really say that last thing very often, or ever, but you get the idea.)

We stopped by Play It Again Sports on the way home from lunch, bought a beginner's set of clubs (did I mention they're baby blue?), and set a tee time for later in the evening.  How hard could it be? I reasoned.  You wear awful pants, bend over, stick your ass out, and hit the white ball.  Done and done.

Like this guy:



Justin took me over to a little side area with a net where folks can get warmed up and practice.  A few swings into this whole brouhaha, I realize: there may be a little more to this game than I'd previously believed.

Already feeling self-consciousness rising within me to approximately the level of my throat, I trek on over to the first hole.  My golf bag is fashioned to hang from my shoulders kind of like a backpack, but it keeps me a little off-balance and the way the clubs clink with every step feels noisy on the quiet course.  This is one of those moments I'm going to make a complete and utter fool of myself.

We're just about to tee off when we hear a voice come over the loudspeaker.  To me it sounds just like the "Wah wah wah waaah wa wah" from Charlie Brown, but my husband determines we should wait -- we have two people joining us.

"What?" I ask Justin, my voice rising a few octaves instantly.  Oh, crap.  Witnesses to this disaster?

Two gentlemen in their fifties join us on the green.  That awkward feeling rises approximately to the level of my eyeballs.  But we all shake hands and introduce ourselves, we explain this is my first time, and Stan and Beau smile to welcome me.

It could be that had we golfed with cold, rather snarky people, it could have ruined the experience for me forever.  (By the way, don't you just love that word "snarky"?  I do).  But these guys were cool and laid back and extremely helpful.  For instance -- Stan, after watching a rather impressive run of me swinging eight times without hitting the ball, decided to have mercy on my soul and take some action.  He had me line up my swing.  Then he stood in front of me and placed his hand on my head.  "Okay.  I'm going to hold your head down while you swing, alright?"

It's been a while since someone I've been acquainted with less than half an hour has grabbed me by the top of my head, but as Justin didn't appear alarmed, I kept my cool.  Amazingly, I didn't hit Stan's shins, but the golf ball.  (I'm going to patent a product for beginning golfers that pretty much just involves a dude in his fifties who will stand in front of you and hold your head down while you swing.  You see, that's what you have to do. You have to use your mind and come up with some really great idea like that and you never have to work again!).

It certainly was one of the worst rounds of golf Raspberry Ridge has ever seen, but I did hit the ball less-than-obscenely a couple times, and even managed a Tiger Woods fist pump a time or two, just for grins.  I've had muscles hurt the last few days that I wasn't aware I had, but I'm sufficiently recovered enough to head out to the driving range this afternoon for some more punishment.

Ah, the things we do for love.  Like see The Incredible Hulk in the theater.



Side note: I really hate CGI characters other than Gollum.  It's been completely downhill ever since then.

Next time: join me for a rousing tale of my forays into the exciting game that is Warcraft 3.

(Then again, maybe not.  A girl's got to draw the line somewhere).