You’re a natural!

My mom has been on an informal golf league for a couple years. The league is made of a group of women, and occasionally a few men, who work or have worked together, with a few friends and neighbors thrown in for good measure. Of this group, three to eight of them have gathered once a week throughout the summer for a round of, by their own admission, mediocre golf. This is a beginners group. This is a social group. They shoot nine holes of golf in almost three hours. They share the gossip of the week. They work on their golf game. They have a couple beers. They have fun. 

This summer, mom has convinced me to join them. She has been working on this for several years. It is part of her plan to guarantee I’m not alone and miserable in my old age. I might find a suitable man out on the course if I learn to golf, you know. It could happen.

 Aside from the motive, I was a pretty tough sell on the whole golf idea. I had a traumatic golf experience in high school. I graduated from a high school with fewer than 400 students. There were 107 in my graduating class. During one semester of gym class we did a session on golf. Everyone chose an iron from large bag. It was a small school, with a limited budget. All of the clubs were right-handed clubs. I am left-handed. As a studious, uncoordinated student (geek) I automatically said, “So, I get to just watch right?” Uh, no. The response from our rather masculine female gym teacher was, “just turn the club around the other way. It will be fine.” Yeah. Right. Those of you familiar with golf just groaned. And you know why I was reluctant to attempt golf even 20 plus years after that horrific six weeks of gym.

 My mom is nothing if not persistent. She did eventually wear me down. But I wasn’t sure if this golf thing was really going to be my cup of tea. I did not want to invest a lot of money in this if I was going to go once, hate it and never go again. Do you think anyone has a spare set of left-handed golf clubs lying around? Not so much. Visions of high school began dancing through my head. Somehow every left-handed person we talked to, and there are a surprising lot of them that hang out at The T, a local watering hole, said they golf right-handed. Really? Ok, so I’m convinced. Mom has a spare set of right-handed clubs I can borrow. If it doesn’t work out, we can always go the left-handed club route later, I guess. 

I get a five minute lesson from my step-dad, and I’m off! Sort of. Due to scheduling conflicts and weather, six weeks went by between my lesson with the golf pro and my first actual golf outing. Thankfully, beside my mom, there was only one other lady from the group that golfed with us that day. We golfed nine holes in two and a half hours. I shot a 109. On nine holes. And I (generously) estimated a 27 on hole one. Seriously. On the up side, there was no one behind us on the course.

 And, of course, I can hardly go anywhere but up (or is it down?) from here.


3 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Diane said,

    I keep meanning to tell you how much I appreciate you inviting me to join you at golf. I love those nights and have a great time! Thanks!

  2. 3

    […] You’re a natural! ( […]

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