Hit the ball, go find it and hit it again.

It’s been called the greatest game ever invented.  It’s been more often called the stupidest game ever played.  It’s a four letter word.  Golf.  Originating in Scotland somewhere in the 15th century.  It was banned in 1457 because it was interfering with archery practice, sorely needed to defend the Scottish Realm against an invasion by the English. It’s history is another fascinating story, but today I’ll take you into the love hate relationship of playing the game.

You get up early (it’s still dark) to drive to a pristine park like, dew filled manicured setting of grass cut with scissors, sand, trees, water and cement, where a bunch of others intent on doing the same thing, unloading their gear while chatting about this is the day they’re going to break (100, 90, 80 or something else, like a club), because of the brand new, top of the line, scientifically tested by eager beavers like me, driver, putter, chipper, dual action, double sided, thick miracle like grip you know is going to take you to the next level.  The salesman said so.  Now it’s tee time.  Golfers, start your warm ups. 

But why?   It’s torture.  It’s camaraderie. It’s exhilarating.  It’s expensive.  It’s time consuming.  It’s frustrating.  It’s a challenge.

It’s a game to hate and a game to love on the same day.

It imitates all of the attributes of life, in a way that is more unbiased than any other experience.  The rules are clearly defined, though often misunderstood, complicated, but simple.  There is a starting point.  There is a target.  How you get there is up to you and your abilities mustered up for this particular time and date.  Your opponents, or comrades have the same target, and you desire to beat the pants off them, as they do you.  During the event, not only are the clubs used, but also the mind games of intimidation, humiliation, fear, as are ego inflationary remarks used for the slightest advantage.  Some comrades will use these games openly, and your best friends will think they don’t.  

The basics.  Hit the ball, find it, hit it again as you found it, hopefully going closer to the target, the bottom of just a 4 ½” “hole” somewhere up there.  Count all your hits.  Start over on the next “tee” and continue counting each “stroke” till all 18 “holes” have been navigated.  Add up the 18 scores and you have it.  You won, you lost, you broke even….till next time, or sell your clubs and stay home with the family.

Golf is so unbiased that you wish you had CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, and yes, even FOX along with every news reporter at your side to adjust the rules, or change the result of the stroke, to move the bunker, the hole and simple math.  You’re all alone, yet surrounded by friends.  There is also that hope, the anticipation that today is the day.  Golf has an element inherent in the game that will bring one back to the same setting more and more as the experience of just one stroke made that defiles your comrades and yourself.  That time when you took the driver out of the bag, gripped it and banged the ball straight down the middle of the fairway in perfect position for the next, and farther than you imagined Tiger would have.  You felt the club head make explosive contact and watched as the ball accelerated in a long high upward arch going, going, going and slowly descending to a beautiful bounce and roll coming to stop on the short grass.  In the background you hear “Wow”, “Nice shot”, “Way to go”, or “You’re the man”.  This game is a cinch.  That’s all it takes.  What time do we tee off next week? 

Inside though you wonder why can’t I do this all the time?  And then, there is that next hole to play.  You are absolutely certain that this drive will be the same, you’ve discovered the secret, you’ve learned something you were doing wrong and you can correct it forever and have the round of the century.  Now, you’re ready.  Tee up the ball, take your stance, sight the target, start the back swing and rip it.  Now, something else happens.  It goes like a sparrow, dead hooked left, over the fence, the swimming pool, the house, and you hear a crash somewhere on some front driveway you can’t see.  Or, the opposite: a convoluted slice right into the middle of the lake that was supposed to be aesthetic. Now there is silence in the background, or a sarcastic “nice shot”.  Then the club you admired so much, followed the ball, or you wanted to.  “I hate this game”.

It is these conquests over our personal frailties, our personal limitations that when you have one of those days, or a series of consecutive holes when you feel like you’re not feeling at all. Nothing matters. You are here, the past is nowhere, the future is the next present.  The goal is already achieved.  All you have to do is hit the ball.  “Grip it and rip it” as John Daly has said.  It’s that simple.  You don’t think about it, you just do it and it happens. This is remembered and wished for again.  This is when faith becomes reality.  The golfing gurus say this is being “in the zone”.   If it is just two or three shots in a row, a perfect hole played perfectly, a beautiful 5 holes with 3 “easy” birdies, or an entire round, it’s enough that you’ll be enthralled and captured as a golfing nut forever.  Either you have experienced it personally, or have heard others talk about it that keeps you coming back wanting more.  Just once.  And once more.

In a round of golf there are no biases.  The ball cares not what happens to it.  The club you paid so much money for does not favor your hand or another.  The berms, the grass (short or long), the beachy sand filled bunkers, the creeks, ponds and trees are just there to help, to hinder, to catch, to swallow, to repel and act the same to everyone, ready to accept whatever comes it’s way.  It’s pure mechanics.  It’s one person against these inanimate objects purposefully placed to get in the way of the target.  It’s one person fighting his/her own demons against the sense of control over ones abilities we like to win over.  To compete against oneself and win is one of the greatest feelings of all of life.  Just once more.  When faith in ability becomes reality.

And yet, whether the score is 105, 87, 75 or an even par, it only matters that you are enjoying the nature, the grass you wish you could have, the fellowship, the gamesmanship, the outing, and pledging that next time you’ll be at your best and beat the tar out of ‘em. 

Love it and hate it, it’s the greatest game ever.

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Go figure. The Cubs beat up on the Reds today 11 - 3.  In the first inning the Cubs batted around scoring 7 with 3 home runs.  Three more scarttered home runs brought the Cubs to 11 total runs with 17 hits.  Zambrano wins his 15th.   Derek Lee is out for the season because of mysterious illness to his 3 year old daughter.