I played golf last Monday, my first round of the year. No big deal for most golfers but it was for me. I’ll speak to that a bit later.
In the last few months, I have been stuck in a golf dissatisfaction. The game has changed and I’m not sure it’s for the better. More attention is paid to the money list than the leader board. Many golfers on the professional level are content to just cruise through the season staying in the Top 25, earning a nice living, if pulling in €4 to 5 million or more is just a nice living.
Golf news has become who is involved in the latest war of words on Twitter. The golfer’s love life is a priority. Tiger, Rory and Dustin, more words written on Jason Duffer for his divorce than ever for his golf. Arnie’s Army wasn’t formed because of his personal life. It became that way because of the way it was described when he hitched up his pants and went to work for come from behind wins in the 1960 Masters and the US Open.
The golf ball is juiced, the golf clubs are rocket launchers and no sooner do you buy a new set of these gee-whiz clubs, than a new and “better” set arrives. You would think golf clubs were manufactured in Silicon Valley. The tournament schedule just runs one after another, until only the Majors become meaningful, except that most people can’t tell you who won the British Open or the PGA.
Which brings us to my golf round last week. I had spent a month in Spain and hadn’t played one round. It just seemed, I don’t know, unimportant. Finally, Eva threatened drastic measures and dragged me to the first tee.
When I bent over, placing the tee in the ground and the golf ball upon the tee, it all came back. All the reasons I play this game came rushing back, filling my soul making no room for all the silly stories and bad vibes that golf had become. I was home.
Why this was important is that it reminded me that I don’t play this game for the gossip or the latest trends. To quote George C. Scott in *Patton,* “I love it. … God help me, I do love it so.”