Why For the Love of God, Do I Play This Game?

"Golf is a good walk spoiled"

-Mark Twain

As I've mentioned before, I firmly believe in the existence of Golf Gods. They are very real. They are mighty, powerful, omnipresent, and sadistic bastards. They giveth, but mostly, they taketh away. And when they do giveth, it is incredibly rare.

So why do I continue to endure this self-imposed damnation? Because these precocious golf deities are also the biggest drug pushers in the history of time. And their delicious elixir? It is that feeling of euphoria that exists when I hit that one great shot.

Even when I first started playing this infernal game and I had even less of a clue than I do now, somehow I managed to be able to hit that one beautiful shot. The moon was in the seventh house and Jupiter aligned with Mars. And there really is no other feeling in the world like it. Your body, mind, and soul are all in sync as you just launch that little white ball several hundred yards down the middle of a fairway on a beautiful sunny day.

And it works with short shots too. Oh yes. There was that mythical shot that I once hit from the side of the green. I hit a chip shot about 10 yards away, between two trees, on a big sloping green. Right into the hole. I don't know what I scored that day (Probably like a million), but the only thing that I remember was that perfect shot. The memory of that shot will give me comfort when I'm old, drooling, and have lost the ability to control my bladder.

So as I continue to rant and rave (and swear), I fully understand that it is all an infuriating attempt to chase a high. A high that, hopefully, I will get to feel more and more as I improve. Then peace will guide the planets and love will steer the stars.

The Pre-season

Welcome.

I decided to create this blog to document (rant about) my experiences playing golf. I've been playing for about 10 years now and have shown very little improvement. I've taken a couple of lessons here and there from a coach or two, but I'm basically self-taught. Why don't I just take more lessons? Because that time could be better spent being out on the course feeling frustrated, angry, and confused. Oh, and having fun.

This year, for the first time ever, I've decided to actually practice during the off-season. It's a little chilly here in New York City so I can't go out an play. But after 10 years it finally dawned on me that I might get better if I practiced first.

I will dedicate this first post to one phenomenon that I have encountered at the driving range that makes me want to smash my clubs, pluck out every hair on my head, and run screaming onto the range hoping that some random golf ball will end this torment. This phenomenon that I am referring to is the fact that, as I hit more golf balls, I tend to get worse as the day goes on.

THAT MAKES NO SENSE!!!

Shouldn't I get better as the day progresses? Shouldn't I be making (what do you call that thing?) PROGRESS?! I mean it truly is horrible. I actually started out hitting the ball well. Really well. I started thinking, "Hey, maybe I'm starting to get the hang of this game."

But then the Golf Gods exacted their vengeance. (Yes, I truly believe in Golf Gods) I probably didn't hit another good shot for about an hour. And the more I tried to correct, the worse it got. I hit the ball left, make a correction, then slice it for 10 minutes. I slice it, make a correction, hit the ball left. I feel like the golf swing is like trying to thread a needle at 50 mph. Very little room for error.

True story: I'm having a root canal today and I'm thinking of going to the range again afterwards. That way, I can experience something even more painful than a root canal and thus take my mind off it while I recover.

Sounds like a plan.