A Bag of Dreams
Posted on July 20, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet
Where can you experience frustration of the highest order and moments later, feel a sense of elation that is hard to describe? How can you be so on top of your game one day and feel completely inept twenty four hours later? How can you be at peace, feeling that you have things all sorted out and then feel completely inadequate. Welcome to the mysterious world of golf. It seems appropriate that golf spelled backwards is flog.
Back when I was ten years old, every day was Christmas. I got up at 5:30 a.m., made myself two egg salad sandwiches (every day), grabbed my three golf clubs and trudged 3 kilometers to the golf course. I played all day only stopping to eat. My wife hopes that I kept the sandwiches in the fridge and not in my golf bag. I practiced, caddied and hunted for golf balls. And in the waning light of the day, several of us gathered on the putting green for our daily contest. The trip home around 9:30 p.m. seemed a little longer than the morning expedition, but there were no complaints.
Those of you who have played golf understand this clearly: it is the most beguiling game imaginable. In most sports, one can attain a certain level of competence and consistency with enough time, patience and practice. Golf humbles you, plain and simple. If you think you have it figured out, it will slap you silly and bring you back to your senses.
Non golfers must be shaking their heads wondering, what is the appeal to a sport that can drive sane people over the edge? To wit: during a particularly frustrating round of golf, an exasperated golfer whacked two balls into a nearby pond. His partners, sensing an eruption in proportion to Mt. Vesuvius, gave the player a wide berth. He walked calmly to the edge of the pond and with a herculean toss, threw the clubs and bag into the water. He began his walk back to the clubhouse when he suddenly spun on his heels and returned to the pond. Wading in water up to his knees, he retrieved the bag and brought it to shore. He unzipped the side pocket, removed his car keys, heaved the clubs back into the water and stormed off the course.
Some golfers strive for perfection. They take lessons, practice for hours on end and read every golf magazine imaginable. Eventually the golf gods impart wisdom, and perfection is replaced by striving for excellence. This leads to accepting mediocrity.
The best round I ever had was following my son while he played my favorite course on the planet – Cape Breton Highlands Links. I never hit a bad shot but I took several excellent ones … with my camera.
I haven’t played much in the past eight years but when I do, it is for fun, pure and simple. I have figured golf out. It is about the walk and the camaraderie. It is about smelling freshly mown fairways and watching eagles soar and foxes cross the greens. I don’t keep score any more because, let’s face it, nobody cares about my score or yours.
Golfers are eternally optimistic. Most carry a bag of dreams with them until they hole the final putt.
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