In honor of the U.S. open here’s a golf related column….
The man I’m talking to is insane. He’s drooling all over himself with rage. He can’t get the words out fast enough. His heart rate must be approaching its limit. And I’m not sure why. The thing is, I don’t care. I’m having a great day.
The sun is shinning. Birds are chirping. I’m starting a much needed long weekend. And I’m in the middle of my finest round of golf in a decade.
The less evolved part of my brain prepares for this guy to take a swing at me. He’s a few feet away. I’m pretty sure he didn’t brush his teeth this morning. So how did it come to this?
I won’t bore you with a description of my round other than to say it’s been fantastic. A tough game, golf will fray nerves, test resolve, and break hearts. Still, it’s a lot of fun.
I arrived at the course early that morning and was paired with another player. I’ll call him Jake. Neither of us says much except “nice shot.” But Jake is a good guy. He and I both went to UMASS and have sons the same age.
As I line up my approach on the 6th hole, someone yells, “hurry up” from the tee. It’s a wild breach of etiquette. Not long after a ball rolls up close to Jake. A golfer in the group following us doesn’t think we are moving fast enough. What’s the rush? Maybe his wife has him on a short leash. I shrug it off.
On the back nine Jake and I are matched with two older gentlemen. They both hit the ball well but most definitely aren’t in any hurry. The mood lightens. Everyone’s laughing and having a good time.
Trouble still looms. The golfers behind us (acting tough) flash dirty looks. But when one of the older guys in my foursome sinks a long putt, I say to myself, “Don’t worry about it.”
Finally, late in the round the other group catches up. Even after they’ve yelled at us, hit into us, and generally acted like spoiled toddlers I say to Jake, “Let’s be the bigger men and let them go through.”
Jake isn’t thrilled with the idea but agrees. I head over towards them with a smile on my face and my hand out. I start to say, “Sorry we’ve been lagging a bit. Why don’t you guys go ahead.”
The lead golfer isn’t having it. He gets right up in my face and launches into a profanity filled tirade.
Abandoning my strategy of reason, I say,”If you’re in such a hurry you should take up jogging or basketball.”
That didn’t exactly cool down the situation. Dumfounded by my response, he told me what I could go do with myself. Then I did the only thing that made sense. I shoved one of my Callaway Tour golf balls down his throat.
In reality, I walked away. He wasn’t worth it. I had a round to finish. But then he and Jake started getting into it like a baseball manager and an umpire, nearly coming to blows.
The guy wasn’t very big. Jake could’ve picked him up and dumped him in a sand trap. This lunatic kept trying to get the last word in. Lucky for him Jake and I had reasonable amounts of self control. This was one of those confrontations that turns ugly fast, resulting in a headline like: Local Golfer Impaled By 5 Iron. I’m still not sure why he was so angry but I didn’t let it ruin my day.
This column originally appeared in The Sun Chronicle