I hate golf, but not in the traditional sense. It’s more of a Tristan Thompson-Khloé Kardashian-type hate, where no matter how many times a round of 18 holes does me dirty, I keep coming back for more (at least my Top Flites can’t get anyone pregnant). On any given day, I could head to the driving range and slam piss missiles with my driver for an hour, but there’s really no point. As soon as I step foot on a tee box, it’s pretty much a guarantee I’m about to slice one fifty yards right of the fairway, losing not only a shot at par for that hole, but probably the ball I just hit too. If I can somehow salvage a bogey, I’m celebrating like Tiger at the 2019 Masters, taking a swig of my lukewarm Coke (the cart girl decided to card everybody today), and heading on to the next hole to repeat the entire thing all over again.
There are rare instances where I pipe one 250 yards down the fairway of a par four, proceeded by a beautiful iron shot, and all of a sudden I’m on the green with an easy eight-foot birdie putt. If you’re a novice golfer like me, I’m pretty sure you can guess what happens next. A tragic three-putt leaves both my confidence and hand-me-down TaylorMade putter in pieces. The only saving grace is the giant hotdog – or two – that I’m about to devour at the turn, which will leave me nearly incapacitated despite telling my scramble teammate seven times that “I just need some fuel”.
While I could take the advice of my grandpa, dad, or really any competent golfer I know and just sign up for some lessons, I think I’d rather scroll through videos on golf-tok of some random middle-aged guy from a country in Southeast Asia hit stingers at the range. Will it help my golf game at all? No, not in the slightest. Will it make me believe I’m the reincarnation of Rory McIlroy the next time I hit the links? You betcha.
So, I guess saying I flat-out hate golf isn’t probably all that true. I mean, I really despise the game of golf, dread it even, but I just can’t will myself to give it up. Maybe Khloé Kardashian isn’t so crazy after all.
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A masterpiece that speaks to the emotional rollercoaster of such a beautiful game. “the godfather” seamlessly captures the overbearing rage golf brings… all for that one shining birdie every 18 (or so) holes.