I HATE GOLF!
Every year it is the same thing – I resolve that I am going to put the time in to actually get better at golf. My golf game is at a level that is just embarrassing. The problem with golf is that it is insidious in its methods for keeping you coming back. In Dennis we have two exceptional golf courses. They are owned and managed by the town - very reasonable to join, the staff is excellent, and the courses are very well kept.
Dennis Pines
Dennis Pines is probably the most difficult course on Cape Cod with many trees, narrow fairways and greens that are very challenging. Add to this, a greens keeper with a sick sense of humor – it seems he thinks its funny to place the pins on the greens in absolutely outrageous positions. I picture him hiding in the woods around the greens watching to see the frustration of the golfers who finally get on the green only to 4 putt while trying to hit that little white ball into his ridiculously placed holes. Putters being thrown across the green, swear words yelled so loud that the lady with the ridiculous pink golf bag three tees back can hear them, and of course the ripped up score cards littering the next tee are all things that this guy enjoys – sick son of a gun that he is. I hope he gets poison ivy.
Dennis Highlands
The other course – Dennis Highlands, some say, is a much more “forgiving” course. This “forgiving” label always amazes me – what does that mean? Is the course religious? I can do all sorts of evil things and the course is magnanimous in its grace and my slate is wiped clean? I do not see this course as “forgiving.” I am still beat up – I do not come away with that feeling of bliss when I am leaving the parking lot after another grueling round on this course. They say: “It plays better to a slice.” Not my slice. That is just one thing that I excel at on the golf course – nobody can slice the way that I can slice. Slicing for me is a true art form. Again slicing can be very deceptive. All us good slicers start to “play the slice.” In other words, we aim way left so that the ball at least has a chance of careening onto the fairway. Once I was lined up so far left that it looked like I was trying to hit into the club house. I hit it straight. Now that was embarrassing. And of course I was standing there analyzing what I finally did to hit the darn thing straight when the lady with the pink golf bag started charging at me with her 5 iron. I am not buying into the idea that Dennis Highlands is forgiving. That lady with the pink golf bag is not “forgiving” either.
My Wife Did a Great Job
My sons all play golf and it is a good time for us to have some quality time together. When I am golfing with them I truly believe that we brought them up right because they are just so patient with their dear old dad. They don’t care about me not hitting it past the ladies tee on the first hole with everyone on the practice green watching and shaking their heads. Never do they get embarassed as their old man again holds up play as we all search for his last drive that has ended up in the woods. They watch patiently as I criss cross greens, chipping from one side to the other, always making sure to make a visit to a sand trap in my quest to hit the ball onto the green. I know they are convinced that the golf gene passed through from their mother to them and believe me I know that they are grateful for this genetic stroke of luck. They are great and their mother did a fantastic job of bringing them up and making sure the golf genetics flowed through correctly. I love the boys and I would not want them suffering on the golf course like I suffer.
“That One Will Keep You Coming Back!”
In the first paragraph I talked about golf being insidious in its methods for keeping you coming back. It always amazes me because I can play 17 holes and all the time I am telling myself that this is finally the last time I am going to torture myself this way. Scrabble would be a great way to spend time with the sons – maybe chess. All of sudden, on hole number 18 something is different and it works. The ball goes straight, it lands on the great expanse of green grass in front of me and I just feel great. I always jump to the outrageous conclusion that I have had a breakthrough – I have figured it out. Now I can join the ranks of respectable golfers – truly, I have had a breakthrough. But then I realize that I really cannot figure out what I did differently – what did I do to get this absolutely spectacular result? That is the insidious part of the game. I tell myself – I did something right – I can do it again. What the heck did I do right? So now it becomes a quest. I know somewhere that there is a golf game in me – I just have to find it. “That one will keep you coming back.” It is insidious. Please just let me quit.
“If Only I Could Golf Like California Closets Organizes.”
The best part of golfing is when I visualize. I day dream: “If I was only as good at golf as California Closets is at storage and organizing.” I picture myself walking down the fairway with Phil and Tiger at Augusta. Phil with that “deer in the headlights” look because he knows he is in a real dog fight with me – Calfifornia Closets man. Tiger is cursing under his breath because he let me stay so close in this tournament and just knows how “clutch” I am coming down the back nine of the last round. If only I could be as consistent on the golf course as California Closets is in organizing. But alas, I am not as good on the golf course as California Closets is at storage and organizing. I can take some solace in the fact that I am tied to greatness in some way. I hope my California Closets clients understand how much I sacrifice for them. There are times on the golf course that I would give anything to sink an eight foot putt.
