I have recently, because apparently I am a glutton for punishment, at the age of 46 taken up golf. Right, I know. There are people who have been doing this for YEARS at my age. And like some naive teen ager, I decided on a whim that I wanted to learn to play the game.
See here’s the thing. As an attorney, there are SO many golf tournaments, golf gatherings, golf socials, golf outings, golf centered karmic yoga hours, speed golf dating, hare krishgolfings….I mean you get it, right? Golf is the sport of choice in the legal community. If you don’t PLAY golf, you are relegated to driving the club car delivering beers. Which, back in my younger days, was a great way to get to know powerful judges and attorneys. That, my friends, has changed. First, I am old. No middle aged men want a 46 year old woman delivering their beers when there are hundreds of 26 year old baby lawyers coming out of the local law school, doe eyed and ready to hang on their every word. Which could have as much to do with the fact that I can no longer contain my laughter at some of the golf course pontification as it does the fact that my breasts are no longer perky. In other words, I just can’t pretend that every man is fascinating. Second, there are a heck of a lot more female judges right now than male in this county, and they are fun. So I rather ride in the cart and play- provided I can learn this elusive skill.
So to that end, I finally enlisted my golf buddha friend Pat Gallagher in helping me learn the sport. It was about time. Pat has taken every single one of our groups new male friends out and taught them golf. I mean guys we’ve know for half the time. And yet I had to BEG him to take me out- and finally he did.
Oh my goodness, what a terrible and frustrating game this is!? One second I am hitting the ball well. Then I have a quick lesson that changes my grip and I whiff the next six shots! What the hell kind of torture is this? Why is it that every time someone adjusts my swing or grip it seems to screw up my ability to actually make contact with the ball? Is that some sort of sadistic golf right of passage?
I will say this- the guys in our circle of friends appear to be so excited that there is a woman that wants to learn the game, they have all voluntarily taken me out to play. I’m starting to believe that they do this mostly because I am so BAD at this game and so IGNORANT about methods associated with it, that every one of them gets to be an expert for a short period of time. And like always, I am an excellent student. I listen to everything they say and try to follow their advice. That’s got to be refreshing on the golf course, right?
So yesterday, my friend Steve took me out to Rivercrest and let me snarf a piece of his lesson with the head pro. It was awesome. With two hand adjustments, one by the pro and one by Steve, I was whacking the hell out of the ball! But, I’m pretty sure this means the next time I play or practice I will kill a squirrel or ping a mercedes. It seems I am well on the way to becoming a terrible golfer.
Sounds amazing, frankly.