| What's
the big deal about golf?
By DAVID EPPS
Pastor
What is it about golf? I just
don’t get it. I realize that I live in the midst of a golfer’s
paradise and that this is that land of innumerable golf carts. Even the
local police department has a golf cart for patrolling the miles and miles
of cart paths. Heck, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a
golf course around these parts. At the considerable risk of alienating
golfers everywhere, I still have to ask, “Hey, what’s the deal?”
I grew up in east Tennessee where the dominate high school sport was football.
If you waited until Friday night to but a ticket to seek the Dobyns-Bennett
Indians play their brand of championship ball, you might just be out of
luck. Second on the list was basketball. I’m told that the DBHS domed
gym would seat 5,000 screaming fans and, especially during the playoffs,
it would be standing room only. Baseball and track and field were probably
tied for third and, after that, one would find what we called “the
minor sports.” Except that no one really considered golf a sport.
Unless you thought of chess as a sport. Golf was more of a “past
time,” played by people who couldn’t play football, basketball,
baseball, or run track. DBHS had a golf team but, for the life of me,
I can’t ever remember anybody saying, “Wow! Did you catch the
big golf match last week?” We were all too busy talking about football,
basketball, baseball, or track. Or chess.
Still, I played my first and only round of golf back in August 1971 when
I was stationed at Camp LeJeune, NC. A couple of other Marines and I decided
to take a Saturday and give the game a try. We were joined by a fourth
Marine who actually played golf and agreed to explain the game and give
us some pointers. Four hours of trying to knock a little white ball into
a cup was enough. We all agreed that, if were going to spend four hours
in the hot sun on a Saturday afternoon, we should go to the beach where
there were young girls in bikinis. Nobody wore a bikini on a golf course.
Sand, surf, and girls were exciting and held the promise of adventure.
Golf was—well—boring. And it took a long time. In an hour, we
could play between ten and twenty games of pool. The competition was fierce
and a win/loss record could be established. In an hour’s worth of
golf you could be assured of being bored. With three hours of the same
to follow.
Okay, admittedly, we weren’t very good. I think I shot a 90 on the
first nine holes. Pitiful. But when I first began to study karate, I wasn’t
good at that either but at least it was exciting.
Maybe that’s it. Golf needs to be more exciting. I mean, how exciting
is it to watch a guy (or gal) bend over a golf club for five long minutes,
planting and shifting his feet back and forth, looking at the ball and
then the green over and over as, all the while, the announcer whispers
into the microphone the alleged “play-by-play.” “John Jones
bends over the ball,” the announcer barely whispers. “He grips
his driver and looks down the fairway. He looks at the ball…shifts
a bit…looks again down the fairway…back at the ball…down
the fairway…” Good grief, hit the thing already! And even if
the drives the ball far and long into a hole-in-one, do you think the
crowd cheers? Nooooo, they politely and quietly clap. No high fives, no
painted faces, no exposed beer bellies, no high-kicking cheerleaders with
perfect bodies and exposed tummies, no bands, no dousing the victor in
gallons of Gatorade, no fights in the dugout…just the quiet pitter-patter
of nearly silent applause.
Yet, millions are affected, nay addicted, by this drug called “golf.”
True golfers won’t go on vacation unless they can house themselves
near a gold course. Even NASCAR fans can take a trip and not go near a
race track for at least one week out of the year. How many pool players
do you know that take their cue sticks on vacation? How many fishermen
take their rods and tackle? How many hunters take their thirty-ought-six
with them to Disney World? But golfers will load up the clubs and somehow
pack them in the trunk or stow them in the cargo hold of an airplane,
believing that if they can’t play a round of golf, their vacation
is a monumental waste of time. And golfers—true believers, anyway—must
show off their new drivers and putters. Bill says, “Hey, Bob look
at this Mark Victor super-titanium, blended steel-copper alloy, with the
ivory inlay, and the textured grip.” To while Bob replies, “Bill,
please, we’re in church and the pastor is preaching. Put the club
away till after services. People are staring”
But, I have to admit that watching golf on television is a real treat.
After church on Sunday, I can go home, turn on the set, tune in a golf
match, settle in my Lazy Boy and—BAM—asleep in three minutes.
Try doing that with football, basketball, baseball, or track. Or chess.
David Epps is Rector of Christ the King Church
between Newnan and Peachtree City. He may be contacted at
FatherDavidEpps@aol.com
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