I went to the driving range today. It was a beautiful day, a day that demanded people be outside. So, Jonny, Jeff and I went to the range. Get one thing straight: I am not a “golf guy.” I am a “putt-putt golf guy.” There is quite a difference here, mostly in the general golfing ability (less) and general fun had (more). Basically, when I swing at the golf ball, it’s not a rare occurrence for me to miss; but I don’t mind.
Say, however, that someone watched me as I golfed. Say this watcher sat mere yards behind me as I drove the range. Say he perched on his metal bench, clutching his bag of clubs, with his little golf beret low over his eyes. Say you could imagine his whispers:
“Your time is up, boy. The range row is full of golfers and you’re the worst. Give me the tee.”
Most golf guys would have been perturbed — offended or disturbed even. Yes, I may have been the worst golfer on the range. Yes, I may have been an embarassment to golf. But, sir, you did not scare me.
Though you may look like Alec Guiness, I am not susceptible to your Jedi golf powers. I am a proud putt-putt golf guy. I will yield the tee when I run out of golf balls or when my swing knocks me unconscious. No sooner.