Okay. It's only fair. I suppose I'll do this. This one time.
Last Saturday Brent took me to a driving range. He was bummed he couldn't golf and decided what better new hobby than teach ME how to golf. I told him I wanted to blog about the experience. He said he did too. So here is a tale of two viewpoints:
I have never touched a golf club "in real life." Meaning, I have mini-golfed unsuccessfully many times, and held golf clubs for others, but never have I gone to a real golf course and tried to golf. This is my story.
Brent and I both were needing a little time outside the house. We needed time to breathe in some fresh air. The previous day we had been looking at women's golf club sets at Dick's, and I decided that I could handle being a golfer if I could get a cute, girly colored golf set. So, the next day when the idea to hit the free driving range came up, I decided I would just go with it, picturing myself someday swinging a purple club.
I was hoping no one would be there. It's a small golf course, and I had my pride to hold onto. Unfortunately, there was not only a guy there, but he was one of those guys that has that contraption that sucks up the golf balls so you don't even have to bend over and pick them up. This fact alone proved to me that he meant business. This doused my hopes a bit.
Brent tried to show me, as bet he could with one arm, a good stance and swing. We poured out about 50 balls, I took a few practice swings, and then tried my luck.
Luck there was none of. I maybe hit the ball 3 out of every 10 swings. I was using a sand wedge, and it didn't make sense to me that I had to swing under the ball. So I usually whiffed it and missed the ball completely. I did make contact a few times though, and had decent hits. Brent tried to give me a few more pointers, but at this point I was getting a little frustrated.
And then it happened. I had one particularly bad swing and hit, the ball barely bouncing and rolling 20 feet, and the guy swinging a few feet down looked up and half smiled, half sympathy laughed! Yes, sympathy-laughing at ME! And my pathetic attempt at golfing. I said something like, "Don't mind me...it's obviously my first time trying my hand at this!" and we went on. But my pride, which I was barely hanging onto at this point, burst into flames and left me, along with any confidence remaining.
Fast forward about 3 swings later. I check my feet, bend my knees, and swing: I make contact (!), and watch the ball....and the sand wedge head go flying! WHAT?! I not only am frustrated and humiliated and cold (it was chilly that day), but I then proceed to break one of Brent's favorite clubs. My motto at this point, "Whatever. I don't care."
Brent handed me a driver, figuring I wasn't going to hit it too far anyway. This is one of his Ping clubs, so I was praying it wouldn't break on me. I hit a few. Nothing too exciting. I decide it's time to call it wraps, feeling I have sufficiently been humiliated and figured out two essential things: I cannot hit a golf ball, and I should not golf again. So after about 30 minutes, we pick up the balls, pack up the bag, and head home.
I've decided this: I am not patient enough to be bad at something. I want to be good right away. I am too competitive to be the worst at something. We were able to eventually laugh at the whole situation, but it was fairly ugly.
I am not, nor will I ever be a golfer. Even if I had cute clubs.
Hi (this is my debut). First of all, since I have the last word, most of what Kelsey said is the truth. I, on the other hand, will tell you what really happened.
Kelsey and I did go to Dick's and I had the idea that maybe Kelsey should start taking up golf first of all because I like it a lot and probably because I had recently played with a family (dad, mom and son) on the golf course and they were nice. The mom was such a good sport about it and she had urged me to get my wife out there to play with us. That started my wheels turning. Flashes of Kelsey and I swinging clubs, smiling and laughing in the golf cart, her giving me a good game after making a birdie, all dressed up in our bright colored argyle pattern clothing. The funny part is that, at the time, it didn't seem too far fetched.
All those daydreams came crashing down in one fatal swing.
She did a good job telling you what happened at the range, I'll give her that, but she failed to put in our conversation afterward as we drove home. She began to blame me for not coaching her in correct fashion, but the bottom line was that she didn't want to hear instruction from me in the first place. She needs a "golf coach," someone who "really" knows what they are doing. So, when the truth finally came out in the car, as I pried it out of her, wasn't much of a surprise. We just laughed about it the rest of the way home as we decided that I was doomed to fail from the beginning. Let's think about this: Kelsey playing a sport that involves lots of patience with hours of practice needed just to play 18 holes of golf (usually taking 4+ hours and costing 14-20 bucks) and still not be anywhere close to being good? Nope.
It's official, Kelsey and golf will never be a pair. That's sad to me because it's a sport that I like sharing with people. Every once in a while I talk to her like there's still a chance she will one day realize the void of golf in her life, but until that day comes...I can always look back on that day and smile at the missed opportunity and missed hits.