off-season
I haven't golfed in years. I started golfing at a very early age. One of my earliest memories is a snippet of a legendary family tale about the time I sat in the middle of a big field and put all my dad's clubs through the slats in a drain. The only part I remember is that the woods and the putter wouldn't fit.
At two years old I had a plastic set and would go out in the field with my dad and hit balls back and forth. I had a real set of clubs (Northwestern's Chi Chi Rodriquez junior model) at five and was soon out of the field and on the course. There were times when I was so small that the starter didn't want to let me out. My dad would have me hit a ball to prove that I could play.
He and I played all over Long Island and anywhere else we went. I probably outdrove him at ten but didn't beat him until I was thirteen. I saw him hit one in the cup from about 100 yards out while getting soaked by a sprinkler and he saw me break a club in half. Togoether, we played entire rounds when there weren't any flagsticks because the course was closed for the off-season. He got immense enjoyment watching me ricochet a ball off a tree into my throat.
I stopped playing a few years ago. I hate the sheer numbers of golfers out there these days. I hate the prices. I hate the Big Bertha poser hacker fuckers.
But really, it just ain't fun for me without my dad. He and I went out and hit a few 9-irons in a field a few weeks ago. First time I picked up a club in a long time. He's got back problems and really just doesn't have the stamina for the game anymore.
So, I am making it official. I am on hiatus until there is someone that important to me for me to play with.
At two years old I had a plastic set and would go out in the field with my dad and hit balls back and forth. I had a real set of clubs (Northwestern's Chi Chi Rodriquez junior model) at five and was soon out of the field and on the course. There were times when I was so small that the starter didn't want to let me out. My dad would have me hit a ball to prove that I could play.
He and I played all over Long Island and anywhere else we went. I probably outdrove him at ten but didn't beat him until I was thirteen. I saw him hit one in the cup from about 100 yards out while getting soaked by a sprinkler and he saw me break a club in half. Togoether, we played entire rounds when there weren't any flagsticks because the course was closed for the off-season. He got immense enjoyment watching me ricochet a ball off a tree into my throat.
I stopped playing a few years ago. I hate the sheer numbers of golfers out there these days. I hate the prices. I hate the Big Bertha poser hacker fuckers.
But really, it just ain't fun for me without my dad. He and I went out and hit a few 9-irons in a field a few weeks ago. First time I picked up a club in a long time. He's got back problems and really just doesn't have the stamina for the game anymore.
So, I am making it official. I am on hiatus until there is someone that important to me for me to play with.
posted by sparklestone at 1:22 PM
28 Comments:
I am also a retired golfer - my parents bought my brother and I junior memberships at a local course when we were younger. I used to golf relatively regularly and even took a few sets of lessons. Despite my membership to the club, I never actually golfed enough to get good.
I've golfed on occasion since then, mostly on family vacations.
I have to admit that I do have a Big Bertha-style driver (I think it's called the Whale or some such) but have never used it on a course, just on the range a few times - I have enough trouble with a 3-wood let alone a monster like that.
I agree - golf has become far too expensive and too busy. I'll golf if someone else is paying (ie on family vacations), or its a special occasion (ie a stag or something).
This is a great post -- says so much about the importance of your Dad to the game of golf.
Maybe your next favorite partner will be a diamond chip off the old block?
I bought an entire set of clubs just so I could go golfing with you, and now you fucking quit? Bullocks.
I remember how happy your dad was to wait while we searched the last nine holes of a course for my shaded eyeglass clips.
That was swell.
Capt, nothing wrong with the actual Big Bertha (or the Whale). Just the combination of $1000's in clubs and bag and the entire Greg Norman clothing line and no real understanding of the game.
mb. Yes, I think that is the whole point of the post. Miss Kate will be sneezing (she does this thing we call 'emotional sneezing'). She needs to help make me a little golfin' buddy.
I can't remember, Sylow, did we find those?
My clubs (other than The Whale) are among my most prized possesions - I inherited them from my grandfather after he passed away. He used them every single day - he was happiest on the golf course. Whenever I'm out using them, I can almost feel him out there with me.
At this point they'd probably be considered antiques - Lynx Predators from the early 80's...these were the days before carbon fibre mind you...so I look a bit silly out there.
No. You're pappa was mystified that we even considered the possibility of finding them. I took them off because it was getting dark, remember?
Ah Capt,
My dad bought me my first full set of clubs in 1982. My cousin's husband sold clubs for living. $325 for my set of Lynx Predators.
Sylow, I was being sarcastic. We actually drive by that course often now that I live in the area and Poppa Smurf never fails to say, "Maybe we should go look for Sylow's glasses."
Now I have a name for my sneezes. Emotional sneezes. Great! Mine always come in pairs.
I've only ever played golf w/ Sparky & Miss Kate & Poppa Smurf. Sparky, did you or Poppa Smurf give me the award for the loudest putt? It was awesome! & I will probably never putt that loud again...
thinking about your pops and the game of golf makes me regret that he was not with us when we played a round of golf and smoked cigars and they made you vomit. i'll bet he would have enjoyed that.
j
One of my earliest memories (nightmares) is getting yelled at for letting you throw those golf clubs down the sewer. I think that tainted golf for me for life.
But for some reason, little D keeps saying she wants to go out and hit a real golf ball. I think she has outgrown the plastic set you bought her when she was 2, although A still plays with it all the them. While Papa smurf told her he may take her, I am not sure if he really is up to it. We told her to ask uncie Sparkles
Golf is a life sport, which I love. But it carries lots of emotional baggage that volleyball, basketball, croquet or bocce could ever match.
I turned off to golf when grown men had Tigger and Miss Piggy as club covers.
like marybishop, I too have emotional baggage with golf. I don't play and probably never will. And this summer might well be the end of the course that caused all the baggage.
that said, you ought to go to nh and play with my dad. He always says that the two things that ruin golf are keeping score and looking for lost balls. He also does a thing that J loves where he says "do you want a tip" and if yes, he gives, if no, he keeps his mouth shut.
PG, Yup. Emotional sneezes live in pairs.
Here's what I remember crackhead. We went to the driving range, I teed up a ball for you which you then missed entirely, hitting instead the bucket full of balls off to the side and knocking them all onto the range.
J, who doesn't enjoy a vomiting golfer?
Nils, you can't sidestep the fact that the only thing that stood between Dad's Hogans and the Netherworld was you and you let everybody down. You will say, "I was only four," and "Dad called me over to watch him hit," but you can't disguise the fact that you had no respect for the game then and you don't now! Which is why I'll be getting D some new clubs and taking her out to hit.
Mary, I hear you. I had a shark cover on my driver when I was a kid but it didn't last very long.
Redballoon, that does sound like it could be fun.
Now for my Uncle H who you are familiar with, looking for lost balls is more important than any other part of the game. He collects lost balls. He organizes them by make and has them stuffed into those purple Crown Royal sacks. I don't think he has ever taken a ball out of a sack. They are not for use. He used to take me into his basement..."Now all these hanging on this side of the wall, they are all Maxfli."
Sparky....You are close but that's not exactly how it happened. I swung at the ball, missed, and instead hit the metal tray that was provided at each station to hold your balls. The tray went skidding across the concrete, the balls rolled out, and all the other golfers turned to see what the racket was.
Crackhead, I remember that it involved my brand new 7-1ron being loudly thwacked into something made of metal.
We're getting into MB-style comments here - I'm guessing that it won't be long until someone googles "metal tray to hold your balls" and ends up here.
Hey, you're just being mean. I was only 4, and dad did say come watch this shot. You need to take some responsiblity for your own actions, and "I was just a baby" doesn't fly.
Nils, I wasn't 'just a baby,' I was the baby BOY, ie., could not and cannot do any wrong.
Hmmm with a name like captain underpants.. I would think you would be kinder to moi of the innocent yet suggestive comments.
Golfers, ever hear this one: You putt and it's 1.5 inches from the cup. Partner says oh you made a Russian putt. You look quizical. He says, yeah you needed another revolution.
bada ding
Sorry I forgot, or at least tried to erase that fact, and the related scars, from my memory.
Uh oh MB. You could be opening an ugly can of worms. I played every Sunday for two summers with a coupla 70 yr old jewish guys. I have a feeling that the commentor known as "j" also has a few bad golf jokes at his disposal.
so:
A rabbi who loves golfing sneaks out for a quick 9 in between the morning and afternoon services on Yom Kippur. Watching as the rabbi tees up on a 370 yard par 4, God says to Moses, "Watch this!" Rabbi smacks the best drive of his life which hits the concrete 100 yds to the green marker in the middle of the fairway on a fly, bounces to the 50 yds to the green marker, bounces onto the green and into the cup. Moses asks, "Why are you rewarding a rabbi playing golf on the holiest of days??" God says, "Rewarding? Who's he gonna tell?"
Nils, that seems like it would be hard to forget.
I have never golfed a day in my life. Everyone in my office golfs. I'd sure like to learn how.
Is this an entire family of bloggers i fell upon? Your comment/conversations are hysterical.
What say you all? Are we a family?
No one's offered to adopt me yet... 8-(
Does anyone want to claim to be related to me?
Formerly known as Crackhead, I will claim you...! 8-)
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