Golf cannot possibly be considered a sport. It was, at one time, men in awful plaid pants who quietly cursed at a small, round white object as they slowly chased around on a lovely green grassy park over little hills and sandy areas. They also had young men who followed them with humongous canvas bags full of sticks with funky covers on them. Ever so often, the young bag carriers would hand the plaid wearers a new stick to wave at the round objects and the cursing would begin again.
This week-end I learned this "activity" has changed; when and where, I wouldn't know. Three friends from out of town, came to O-land just to chase those round, white objects around for 3 days. They did not have a "Plan B" in case of rain, which of course did happen on the second day. I would think that it would not be a good idea to be outside with a metal stick in my hand when it is lightening and thundering, especially on an open field with little mounds that have to be climbed. Fortunately for this area, rain doesn't usually last long. Plan B or C was to eat breakfast and wait until the storm moved quickly through the area.
Walking has been replaced with driving little carts all over that have racks on them that hold a smaller version bag. No more funky clothing and no more need for the young men to carry the hugh bags. I also got a "history" lesson on how to play and what some of the rules are now. Watching them see the grounds for the first time was like watching little boys coming down stairs to the presents at Christmas. Their eyes opened wide, sparkled, and I think I even saw some "drool" on their lips. Not my cup of tea, but a seemingly harmless event. And, they took me out to dinner last night at one of the top restaurants on property. Three good looking guys, being able to enjoy "filet mignon" and creme brulee - it's all good. We only have one life to live, but if you do it right, that's all you need.
No comments:
Post a Comment