Pro_V_wan_kenobi
Assistant Pro
It was a round which could only be described as deficient and woefully substandard, so bad I was starting to wish I was still at work. I shook hands and thanked, no, apologized to my playing partners and I dragged myself into the locker room. As is my usual custom I retired to the showers. While the hot water soothed my aching limbs my tortured mind asked the question. Why do I play this stupid game?
The answer came like an epiphany; I had a vision, a vision of a scene etched into my mind some 35 years ago. Once again I stood, with my father, on the 2nd tee at Gullane. It is 8:30 in the morning and we have just played the first hole in a har, a mist which often descends on the beaches and links of East Lothian when the weather is warm. There is a slight climb from the first green to the second tee which had raised us above the har. The scene from the second tee was surreal, breathtaking, and certainly unforgettable. It was like playing golf above the clouds, ghostly folds of white mist lay like a blanket across the course and above us the sun shone bright and warm in a deep azure sky. I hit my drive, it wasn’t the longest I have ever hit but it was straight and, as it sailed through the clear sky and descended into the mist I knew that it was by far the most beautiful shot I had or was ever likely to see.
I have no aspirations to be a great golfer; I have tried and found myself wanting. I love the game for the memories of rounds past, the comradeship and challenge of the present round, and the promise of the rounds and courses yet to play. We all get a bit down when we don’t play as well as we should but this silly, pointless game has been a source of great joy for me and I will always return to it.
The answer came like an epiphany; I had a vision, a vision of a scene etched into my mind some 35 years ago. Once again I stood, with my father, on the 2nd tee at Gullane. It is 8:30 in the morning and we have just played the first hole in a har, a mist which often descends on the beaches and links of East Lothian when the weather is warm. There is a slight climb from the first green to the second tee which had raised us above the har. The scene from the second tee was surreal, breathtaking, and certainly unforgettable. It was like playing golf above the clouds, ghostly folds of white mist lay like a blanket across the course and above us the sun shone bright and warm in a deep azure sky. I hit my drive, it wasn’t the longest I have ever hit but it was straight and, as it sailed through the clear sky and descended into the mist I knew that it was by far the most beautiful shot I had or was ever likely to see.
I have no aspirations to be a great golfer; I have tried and found myself wanting. I love the game for the memories of rounds past, the comradeship and challenge of the present round, and the promise of the rounds and courses yet to play. We all get a bit down when we don’t play as well as we should but this silly, pointless game has been a source of great joy for me and I will always return to it.
