professional tour. I’m not sure
I understand the point. Am I supposed to feel better about my 125?
Handicaps are (almost) enough to make you stop cheating.
“Can we use tees on the fairway?” a student asks.
“No,” says Liz, “that’s cheating,” and then reminds us: “Cheating on your scores will only drive your handicaps down.” I’d
never thought of it that way. She says some “sandbaggers” will shoot eight pars in a row then purposely shoot a 12 on the
next hole to keep their handicaps up. That’s getting a little perverted.
However, it does occur to me this might be an excellent excuse for my atrocious golf game. Maybe people will think I’m playing
poorly on purpose to keep my handicap up.
Liz says there’s great news on the handicap front! “They’re giving people 40 and even 45 handicaps, way higher than they used
to.” Let’s see, 45 plus par 72 is … well, it’s still not quite enough, but in a comprehensive program with some throws and
kicks it’s going to help a lot.
At the sixth and final class there is real danger. This is the night Liz teaches us how to tee off. Students bring drivers
and swing them wild and hard. Diana hits another student in the head with one of her balls. “Medic!” he yells. Jack can’t
seem to hit the ball with his driver—at all. He whiffs over the top of the ball or he hits the carpet and sends it flying.
A couple of times there are thuds and clangs as he hits under or behind the carpet swatch, thwacking the linoleum floor. He
may have even produced a linoleum divot on one attempt.
“Take a breath and count to three,” Liz says, consoling him. “Keep your chin up but not when you’re hitting the ball!”
She instructs another student to stand farther away from the ball with her driver.
“Why?” the student demands to know.
“Because it’s longer,” Liz replies.
“Don’t let your tee shot psych you out,” she warns. “It can ruin your whole game. My father taught me to play golf using only
a 6-iron. No tee shots. That would be a good idea for you. Just throw that first tee shot if you have to. Or if it gets too
bad, just pick up your tee and go.”
And with that, school’s out for summer. Some of the students stick around to ask individual questions like why pro golfers
wiggle their butts and their clubs before hitting the ball, but our golf instruction is over.
Can you really learn to play golf in six hours for sixty-nine bucks in a grade school gym in New Jersey?
Nope. And, to a degree, yes. Liz introduces us to the clubs and to the fundamentals of how to swing them. She succeeds in
making us feel like we know enough to at least go out and try to play. And when no one’s ever told you anything about the
grip or the swing or the clubs or the etiquette, and you find yourself walking out to that first tee, you really do feel a
bit like you’ve been beamed down to an alien planet.
Liz saves her best bit of advice for last: “Don’t keep score, not for a long, long time.” We turn in our carpet swatches,
wish each other luck, and go out into the cold.
3
Bogeyman Goes Public
C hrist had an easier time getting up on Easter than I did. Exactly what time
did
he have to rise anyway?
My alarm went off at 5:00 A.M ., four hours after I went to bed. I’m not an early riser. Why, I didn’t get up till nine in the
army
. True, we lost that one. ‘Nam. These days, I’ve found a job where we don’t have to be in the office until ten or ten-thirty.
And if any fish out there ever wish to be caught by me, they can damned well wait until noon.
Something they don’t tell you when you’re learning golf is that you can’t actually play! There’s no place to do it. There
are golf courses everywhere you look in this bountiful land, but they’re all jammed. Is there a better reason to support Zero
Population Growth and put up electrified fences along our nation’s borders? Malthus warned us about
I understand the point. Am I supposed to feel better about my 125?
Handicaps are (almost) enough to make you stop cheating.
“Can we use tees on the fairway?” a student asks.
“No,” says Liz, “that’s cheating,” and then reminds us: “Cheating on your scores will only drive your handicaps down.” I’d
never thought of it that way. She says some “sandbaggers” will shoot eight pars in a row then purposely shoot a 12 on the
next hole to keep their handicaps up. That’s getting a little perverted.
However, it does occur to me this might be an excellent excuse for my atrocious golf game. Maybe people will think I’m playing
poorly on purpose to keep my handicap up.
Liz says there’s great news on the handicap front! “They’re giving people 40 and even 45 handicaps, way higher than they used
to.” Let’s see, 45 plus par 72 is … well, it’s still not quite enough, but in a comprehensive program with some throws and
kicks it’s going to help a lot.
At the sixth and final class there is real danger. This is the night Liz teaches us how to tee off. Students bring drivers
and swing them wild and hard. Diana hits another student in the head with one of her balls. “Medic!” he yells. Jack can’t
seem to hit the ball with his driver—at all. He whiffs over the top of the ball or he hits the carpet and sends it flying.
A couple of times there are thuds and clangs as he hits under or behind the carpet swatch, thwacking the linoleum floor. He
may have even produced a linoleum divot on one attempt.
“Take a breath and count to three,” Liz says, consoling him. “Keep your chin up but not when you’re hitting the ball!”
She instructs another student to stand farther away from the ball with her driver.
“Why?” the student demands to know.
“Because it’s longer,” Liz replies.
“Don’t let your tee shot psych you out,” she warns. “It can ruin your whole game. My father taught me to play golf using only
a 6-iron. No tee shots. That would be a good idea for you. Just throw that first tee shot if you have to. Or if it gets too
bad, just pick up your tee and go.”
And with that, school’s out for summer. Some of the students stick around to ask individual questions like why pro golfers
wiggle their butts and their clubs before hitting the ball, but our golf instruction is over.
Can you really learn to play golf in six hours for sixty-nine bucks in a grade school gym in New Jersey?
Nope. And, to a degree, yes. Liz introduces us to the clubs and to the fundamentals of how to swing them. She succeeds in
making us feel like we know enough to at least go out and try to play. And when no one’s ever told you anything about the
grip or the swing or the clubs or the etiquette, and you find yourself walking out to that first tee, you really do feel a
bit like you’ve been beamed down to an alien planet.
Liz saves her best bit of advice for last: “Don’t keep score, not for a long, long time.” We turn in our carpet swatches,
wish each other luck, and go out into the cold.
3
Bogeyman Goes Public
C hrist had an easier time getting up on Easter than I did. Exactly what time
did
he have to rise anyway?
My alarm went off at 5:00 A.M ., four hours after I went to bed. I’m not an early riser. Why, I didn’t get up till nine in the
army
. True, we lost that one. ‘Nam. These days, I’ve found a job where we don’t have to be in the office until ten or ten-thirty.
And if any fish out there ever wish to be caught by me, they can damned well wait until noon.
Something they don’t tell you when you’re learning golf is that you can’t actually play! There’s no place to do it. There
are golf courses everywhere you look in this bountiful land, but they’re all jammed. Is there a better reason to support Zero
Population Growth and put up electrified fences along our nation’s borders? Malthus warned us about
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