It has been raining so often this spring in south eastern New England that most of us have simply given up on seeing the sun. It’s been great weather for ducks but not for golf. So when the Weather Channel said “chance of a few showers” and the radar looked clear of any huge lurking green globs, we thought we’d take a chance and hit the links.
Rained out of our usual Friday golf match for the past few weeks, my two friends and I were desperate for some stress relief. Kids, grand-kids, job issues, health issues - the tension had pooled up inside us like the puddles in the streets. We were saturated to our very bones with everyday anxieties. After the horrendous weather of the last few weeks, a few sprinkles couldn’t deter us from our intended tee time.
The clubhouse was jammed with bodies after a men’s tournament held that morning. Already primed with a few pops, the peanut gallery was in rare form as the three of us checked in at the desk. The heckling was loud and unforgiving. “Go on; get out there! Afraid of a little rain?” We were not just the only women in sight, we were the only golfers - period - that were foolish enough to head out into the rain, trusting that the skies would clear in the short term.
It’s one thing to play golf in the rain for a scheduled tournament and quite another to head out in a downpour just for fun. There was no turning back now; our pride was at stake. Read more…
The Memorial Day holiday means more to me than every other holiday wrapped up together. It is more scared than Easter; more blessed than Christmas; more important than any President’s Day and - forgive me, Mom, but I know you’ll understand – more emotional than Mother’s Day.
I do not mean to subvert the importance of this day by tying it together with a silly blog post about golf. I need to make it clear that I feel it is because of this day that I have the opportunity to play golf. As much as we’d like it to be, golf is not one of our basic freedoms as set forth within the constitution of the US of A (but don’t you think it might be?). Golf is a privilege, and without the continual sacrifices made by the men and women of our armed forces, our lives - yours and mine - would certainly be much different. Read more…
I am pretty good at math. Unfortunately, that isn’t a positive for me on the golf course. Even without a score card in hand, I usually know where my score stands. Doing too much math is the kiss of death on the golf course. One should look only as far as the next shot, and no further.
Whether it is just me against the golf course, or me and my playing partner vs. our opponents, I have a hard time not letting the numbers get in my head. Stroke play events terrify me. I have a fear of many things, but posting a 13 on any given hole (yup, I’ve actually been there) is something that lingers in the back of my mind like a horror movie watched late at night and alone. Read more…
What would we golfers do if we couldn’t get out to whack that little ball around once in a while? I’m sure our blood pressure would be higher, our temperaments more finicky, and that we would find our spouses far less charming. There is no doubt, golf is good. It’s good for us, both for our bodies and brains.
My friend was on the driving range not long ago, banging away at a bucket of balls. She was hours away from the unveiling of a major project, an undertaking in which she had been heavily involved for a long period of time. She is fabulous at her job, having won many major awards and been honored for numerous career achievements. None of that stops her from being a nervous wreck when showtime rolls around. How good it felt, she said, to swing away and free up her mind from all that was about to unfold.
You really can’t think about much else while you’re on the golf course, or even while just nailing a bucket of balls. With a gazillion things to concern yourself - setup, grip, stance, alignment, tempo, timing and swing plane, among other sundries–who could possible find time to worry about something that doesn’t pertain to one’s golf game? Read more…
It has become a rite of spring, a sacred ritual that marks the start of a new season, a fresh beginning. After a year’s engagement, at the end of a long and tedious winter layoff, we join together in the company of friends and celebrate the start of a new tournament season at our local municipal golf course.
The two-person scramble my friend and I play each April is hardly a serious format. Still, we plan ahead from year to year and look forward to the day. We enjoy the tournament to such a degree that when I received an invitation to a friend’s wedding for the same date, I had conflicting emotions. Well, not really. I pretty much knew from the time I ripped open the envelope that golf would win out. Read more…
