First round of golf woes
Somewhere around the age of 16, golf became all the rage at school and many an evening and weekend was spent at the local driving range (or in the park) with a small selection of clubs stolen from our dads. We were awful to begin with, but over the weeks we stopped shanking the ball into the netting and instead started to find the 200 yard marker.

As our addiction grew, so did our seriousness and gradually the group started to acquire the usual tat associated with this "sport of gentlemen". It began with leather golf gloves and enormous logo-clad club bags, and soon graduated to spiked shoes, ridiculous flared trousers, polo shirts and sun visors.

Strolling around the range we started to feel seriously overdressed. There was only one thing for it, we would have to venture onto an actual golf course.

Sunday morning, 9:30am was the setting for our first foray onto a 9-hole public course. Dropped at the clubhouse by our parents, I can only imagine how ridiculous we all looked (and how much they must have laughed at us), but we paid our fees and lined up at the first hole behind a group of guys.

Watching them smash the ball down the fairway, my stomach started to churn. This was the real-deal, we were about to play an actual game, putting all those hours at the range into practice.

As the group in front made their way towards the green, we all stared at each other, wondering who actually had the nerve to tee off first. It certainly wasn't me, so I adopted my usual technique of staring at the ground until someone else made a decision.
It worked, I would be the last to go out of our group of four. Nick was the most confident so strode forward and popped his tee in the ground. Lining up his 1 wood, I could see he was actually terrified, his legs wobbling a little as he took his swing.

He made contact and the ball traveled about a hundred yards across the ground. James and Mark both managed similar shots, so had at least made some progress even though their balls had barely left terra firma.

As I stepped onto the tee I took a small glance backwards and was horrified to see the next group lining up behind us. They were a group of middle-aged women who seemed to find the group of ludicrously dressed boys in front of them quite amusing.

I felt like throwing up, and as I stood on the tee, my club suddenly felt too big for me and I had an out of body experience, as though I was looking down on myself from a great height. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the club back slowly and expending all my nervous energy into my arms, the club exploded towards the ball.....and promptly missed it by about six inches. Such was the force of my swing that I did a little pirouette on the tee which was roundly mocked by my mates and the women lining up behind.

I was mortified, but had absolutely nowhere to hide. Lining up for a second time I was a shaking wreck and made a snap decision to do everything that is wrong in golf. I closed my eyes, pulled the club back slowly and hoped for the best.

The resulting shot pinged gloriously into the air and rolled beautifully down the middle of the fairway. My mates reluctantly grunted their approval and the ladies behind cooed appreciatively. It was the nadir and pinnacle of my entire golfing career summed up in less than 30 seconds.

We hacked our way around the rest of the course and by the time the final ball was sunk on the ninth whole, there was a silent acknowledgment that this was the first and final time any of us would do it again.
(BinDipper, Mon 23 Apr 2012, 16:20, 1 reply)

Golf is a great game for old men
and perhaps the odd old woman.
When I see young people playing golf I have an almost irresistible urge to storm up to them and tell them to do something active like shuffleboard. You get old too damn fast as it is. Golf is one up from carpet bowling.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Tue 24 Apr 2012, 1:20, closed)