Golf Fore the Good

At 11:33 PM on March 31st, it arrived in my in-box, an early April Fool’s joke, courtesy of the USGA. It was my official handicap, fresh out of the computer for the start of a brand new season.

The problem with your beginning of the year handicap is that it is exactly the same as your prior end of the year handicap. Up here in the frozen tundra of a New England winter, not much goes on between November and April. In fact, it is almost like we cease to exist. The USGA deems our winter rounds irrelevant. Truly, if we do not golf, then we simply are not to be.

It’s difficult for most of us to pick up where we left off. Until you get at least half dozen or so rounds under your belt, holding your sticks is like learning cursive writing or getting the hang of coloring between the lines. It sounds pretty simple, but not everyone catches on right away.

For a golfer who has had a forced winter layoff - say, five months without playing even a single round - trying to play to the same handicap from the previous fall is nearly impossible. Most of us don’t rebound quite like our boy Tiger.

Staring your spring rounds with that ever-so-low handicap you established last fall when you were at the peak of your game - well, that’s like driving your own car after someone moved your seat all around. It’s still yours, but it doesn’t feel right.

Even a northern golfer who has enjoyed a few rounds down south over the winter usually has some difficulty getting his game back in shape. Playing a couple rounds down south on vacation is like driving a sporty convertible. There’s no pressure, it’s lots of fun and no one is totally serious about getting from here to there. But playing those first spring rounds up north, that’s like driving a big, clunky pickup truck. It’s a tough ride, what with the noise, the shaking and - almost always - a stink that kind of hangs in the air, not to mention how it uses up a whole bunch of energy doing something that should and could be done with a lot less waste.

Spurred on by even the tiniest peek of the sun, we head for the course, pretending that spring is in the air. Bundled up in multiple layers, desperate to post a few miserable rounds, we hope we can either nudge our handicap up to a reasonable, playable number or elevate our game to the cipher we’re already stuck with.

At this time of year, mostly we’re just happy to get out to play. You can’t beat us off the golf course with a stick - or fourteen sticks, for that matter - no matter how damp and chilly the spring weather. April fools, for sure.