Keeping it Clean on the Golf Course

Watching golf on TV can resemble listening to a racy movie. Whenever it is playing in the background and I am absentmindedly listening, I snicker, sometimes gasp, at the phrases used to describe the game. There is no doubt it was designed by a man. An uneducated observer might find themselves questioning what is really happening. So I wasn't too surprised when the story played out that I share below.

I walked into the restaurant, sat at the bar and ordered a margarita, blended with salt. My husband hadn't returned from his golf came so I figured I would have a drink while I waited near where we had dinner reservations. Beside me, a lady about my age was dabbing her eyes. She looked tired, lonely and like she might have had one too many margaritas herself. Even with her back to me, I knew the day had been a rough one, so I extended my hand and asked if everything was OK. She sadly shook her head and replied, "No, I think my husband is cheating on me."

Leave it to me to stick my nose in somebody else's business but here we sat. I initiated the conversation, so it was a little late to back out now. "What happened, honey?"

"Well, I could use a little support to get through this so let me tell you. My husband has a passion for golf and steals a day whenever possible to spend time on the course." I nodded and encouraged her to continue. "It never bothered me before because when he is gone, I enjoy some space to myself. Lately, he has been gone more often and when he didn't return today, I called his cell phone to see if he was OK. Unfortunately, there was no answer. Then, I noticed a series of texts on my phone that hadn't been there before. I guess there was no reception. All of the sudden these appeared at the same time leaving me thinking my husband is playing around someplace other than the golf course.

I reassured her by pointing out if he is texting, then there must not be a problem. It would not make sense that he would text her if he was playing something other than golf with another woman. Then I read the texts and internal sirens signaled a four-alarm fire.

The first text was quite innocent.

"10:45 - I am going to be late. The carts are lined up with old duffers and weekend warriors. Good news though, I got hooked up with another golfer who plays the circuit. She is going to give me a few pointers while we play."

The next text made me wish I hadn't started reading. Her concerns seemed valid, and I blushed a little.

"This gal is hot! Says it took a while to find her sweet spot but now most the balls hit the hole as long as the angle is right and she chokes down on the shaft. You might want to take some lessons from her. Maybe we can set up a time for a threesome."

I asked the wife her name. If I was going to be this involved in her personal life, I should at least know her first name. Did this guy read what he wrote before pushing send?

"We've finally hit a rhythm and are making progress. Sandy, my partner, says I need to work on the quality of my strokes. Says I yank it a little to the left sometimes, need to pick up my pace and try to jerk less."

"Wow! Martha, maybe you have a reason to be concerned and not just about her husband's golf game." She nodded but remained silent as we both looked down at the words. 

"Just finished the front holes and I ended with a good lie - or is it lay? I always mess up those two words. There is no way I will conquer Sandy, but I am learning to get the ball up and down so I can land a juicy lie at the green."

1:30 - "My new best friend and I stopped for a bite but we are on the back nine and will focus on my balls. I didn't realize the importance of size, position, and speed. Even discovered ball cover hardness is a factor, who knew! Oh, and we need to examine my balls. Sandy found a defective dimple that may be causing some of our problems."

By this time I wasn't even sure if he was still talking about golf.

"My game will be totally different after today. My moves will never be the same. On fifteen, I was dancing. Everything I've ever seen, read or practiced just clicked. Been able to decrease the number of strokes with less near misses that cause the ball to graze the rim. What a great teacher; she provides a lot of opportunity for practice and hands on experience."

By now I was at a loss for words and couldn't look up from the phone, afraid my face would confirm her suspicions. 

"Sandy has been so much help improving my performance, and I was able to give her pointers also. Discovered if she spreads her legs a little more the ball flow is more consistent. I tried this and found it helpful but most importantly, I have to keep my head down, otherwise I have a tendency to choke."

My husband's face flashed before my face, and I remembered the last thing he said this morning before he walked out the door. "Hope you have a great day. I'll meet you for dinner in the restaurant. Wish me luck. Hopefully, after 18 holes I will still be able to walk." Talking about golf was starting to creep me out. I shared a sympathy smile as I attempted to return the phone. I didn't want to read anymore.

Martha, refused to take the phone out of my hands. She insisted I finish reading because she wanted my advice and the tear on her cheek forced me to scroll to the next text.

"Most of my lessons today have been on my abilities, but I have also learned that the short grass makes putting easier. Maybe we should consider shaving the long stranglers when we practice at home. I've discovered keeping the carpet groomed is essential."

"4:25 - OK. We are done. I am going to stop by the pro shop to buy a couple new clubs. Sandy pointed out I have curved shaft, my putter is too short for my height, and my wood could be a slightly larger at the head. So don't be surprised if you see an extra charge on the credit card. Then we are going to stop by and wash the balls. Don't wait up."

I put the phone down and finished my drink. Just as the bartender handed me the tab, my husband walked in with a smile so broad, I wanted to slap it off his face. Innocently, he asked if I was ready for dinner. Without thinking, I forced Martha's phone into his hand and demanded he read the serious of texts. He did. Then I asked him to explain what all that meant. 

 "It sounds like the guy had a great day on the greens. Ready to go to dinner?"

I turned to Martha and said, "If I was you, I'd learn to golf. The next time he wants to play a round climb in the cart and give him the ride of his life."

As for me and my husband, we have joined a golf league and practice a couple times a week - together. We will continue to be a team until I've mastered the hole in one.

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For a good laugh read.

Golfing With My Husband Was Fun? Really It Was!

Golf is a Sport for the Sophisticated. We Play Anyways

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