“Fear not the words of a simpleton. Just don’t lend him money”
Let me announce today I have ended my 50 year relationship with the game of golf. After years of worshiping at the feet of the Gods of Golf it is over.
No more will I gild the pockets of the evil rulers of the game with $150(US) putters, the next foolproof cavity irons, overpriced Callaway drivers or shoes which are touted to improve my “game”. Titleist 1 golf balls, Tiger Wood shirts; I don’t need them anymore.
I tried to win your love. New clubs. Lessons. Videos. Hours on the practice range. You played me. A few ups, many downs. Like a girl on a first date you didn’t deliver. You lured me away from my family. You dominated my discussions with friends and business associates.
You piqued the optimistic side of my brain. I believed money and practice would win your love. Once I went without sex for a month on the nights before heading out to golf. No help. I dreamed of a pill that would do for my golf swing what Viagra did for erectile dysfunction.
So it is goodbye you bullying bitch of my futile search for par and happiness. You were the sand in my trap of life. The divot of my dreams for a five on number one. Get your evil jollies off watching someone else hitting balls into the water on number six.
There are others who will continue to worship blindly at your feet. I wish them well and leave those brave souls with these words: Don’t look up.