The Golfing Gods

Well, ladies and gents I have known for many years that golf is a sport that uses many skills. Patience. Needed for those times in which you have an uphill lie, are still 200 yards out and after hitting it two times only to dribble forward about 50 yards, you still need to hit the sweet spot up to that blasted flag stick. Strength. Necessary to get through 18 holes of stop and go, hit, chip and putt. Not to mention the muscles needed to lug that bag around. Balance. Remember that time you had to stand on a wet rock that was covered in slippery moss while keeping your other foot grounded in that prairie grass? Mental sharpness. This is a tough one. Even after you triple bogey that hellish hole, you need to be able to focus, get back in the game, "man up" as Zoe would say and par this next hole. STAT. Finally, a very important skill that one must absolutely posses: the ability to sweet talk the Golfing Gods. Forget about them? My father has been telling me about these illustrious characters for ages, but it really wasn't until today that I truly understood their wrath and their forgiveness. Start getting down on yourself and let your frustrated attitude turn to club throwing and swearing and you just wait, they'll stick it to ya. Keep your cool and think through your shots (and maybe promise a little something in return) and they will reward you. Now, you don't have to be a long ball hitter like the Lama to receive grace from the Golfing Gods. Although, it would help if you could just whack one and be a big hitter like the Lama, 12th son of the Lama, that is. But on this fine Saturday morning, the Golfing Gods looked down on me and sent me a small miracle.

Here I am, just made par on the 10th hole and am stuck up on a downhill lie trying to hit over water and get up on the green. I pull out the winning club, leaving myself a little room for error, set up perfectly to address my natural draw left, take a breath and whack it. Chunk. There it goes! It's flying, it's up in the air. It's slowing down, oh crap. Shoot it's not going to make it!!! Clack! My darn golf ball smacks a rock guarding the pond. It hits it perfectly. The bounce given by the rock angles my ball directly at the pin. It flies about 40 yards getting closer and closer to the inches-wide cup that plagues our dreams. It hits the green and gently rolls up the slant to about 8 feet from the hole. People, we have just witnessed a miracle. The group of dudes behind us start whooping and cheering, I take a bow, still unsure of what exactly happened and my dad and brother holler in excitement coupled with a lot of amazement. I have never seen anything like it and probably never will again, but man, was that sweet. That rock was created to perfection just waiting for little 'ole me to haul off and chunk one heading for the water. It has been waiting for the perfect moment to give a girl a break help her send the ball to his home. The Golfing Gods were smiling down on me and my brother later thanked them by sending 2 sacrificial balls out of bounds. Sorry, Paul.

The legendary hole. Note rocks on the left side and red flag stick on the right.

Golf is a game that can send you on the highest of highs putting a smile on your face and a skip in your step only to bring you down so low you can see grown men cry and those sophisticated "gentlemen" lob their club as if it were a javelin heading straight for his own broken heart. It takes wit and skill, patience and toughness. But most of all, it takes a crazy obsessed looney tune who likes having their emotions toyed with. Exhibit A.