Outside of playing so badly lately that I’ve come darn close to throwing myself onto the fairway and pounding the ground in frustration, golf can be a serene experience.
There you are, rolling grass around you, the sun shining, birds singing, the occasional ping of a well-hit ball (or so I’ve been told – it’s not like I’ve heard that much in my game). But then, things can happen.
As we approached the end of the second hole, leaving that green were two ladies in our league, one of them sending cryptic hand signals. Was she waving congenially in some new way? A friend from my threesome toodled over in her golf cart to ask whassup.
Turns out, the other lady of the pair was having shortness of breath. It was forecast to be 90 degrees today, she had a history of heart trouble, was walking the course not riding, and oh, by the way, her age matches the forecast : 90. The other of the pair, at 83, was concerned about dealing with this on her own. Ms. 90 year-old had already been driven to the hospital from the golf course once before.
The diehard (maybe I shouldn’t use that term) golfer – still one of the best in our league – got a stern talking-to. No, she was told, the question is not to assess later whether she would continue on to play the full 18 holes. What she would do NOW was assess whether she was able to complete hole 3, then hole 4, and so on.Then one of our threesome joined them so the 83 year-old would have back-up.
We continued, looking ahead to see how things were going.
They moved along, I played execrably, my partner did well, and as we came to the 9th hole, we could see Ms.Hardcore heading off to start the back 9. Sigh.
As a side note, when I was heading home into our complex, I had one of those urges. You know you’ll never do it, but you still picture the scenario in your head.
They were painting lines on the entry road, the paint so fresh that I could smell it, the guy intently walking down the middle with his contraption to paint the line.
I could just see myself doing a quick wheelie to the left, then back into my lane, leaving the tidy white line now with a parentheses.
It amazes me how these situations take it for granted that we’ll all behave.
Golf is a mystery to me.
ReplyDeleteRunning over a newly painted middle line I totally get!
Mostly it's a way to be outside, have a chat, and follow it with lunch.
DeleteI am smiling at your temptation - and wondering whether you resisted.
ReplyDeleteYes, darn it. :o) But it would have been fun
DeleteI do hope the elderly golfer made it back home without incident. You tell a good story, that's for sure. I was hoping it would all turn out well, and that you would hit a magnificent shot for good measure.
ReplyDeleteGood point. I wasn't there to see how things finally worked out.
DeleteI haven't golfed much but enough to know how it can feel out there.
ReplyDeleteSo, including your bad performance, all went as expected.
ReplyDeleteShe continued to play instead fo getting checked at a hospital? What would you all have done if she had dropped dead?
ReplyDeleteSo you're thinking. . . kidnapping?
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