We’re enjoying a weekend sojourn in Naples, Florida, staying with friends who have a lovely condo on a golf course, overlooking a tranquil pond. I haven’t played golf in years, since I had foot surgery, but I still appreciate the beauty of a golf course sunrise, the chirping of the birds that golf courses inevitably attract, the puttering of the groundskeeper’s cart in the distance, and the cool air in the minutes before the sun bursts over the horizon.
Now, if only spring would finally make it to Columbus . . . .
Playing golf used to be viewed as a kind of politics-free space. Celebrities, comedians, movie stars, and sports figures could hit the links with Presidents, Governors, Senators, and Congressmen without being accused of endorsing their political views. But it wasn’t just American politics that weren’t transported to the golf course, either. Gary Player was a beloved player in America and elsewhere, even though he hailed from South Africa during its apartheid era. And golfers freely played in international competitions without people trying to ban them because their home countries enforced repressive policies or weren’t viewed as sufficiently following the prevailing political views of the day. The golf course was a kind of sanctuary where people could just play golf.
And this was true even at the local level, where people playing in club tournaments or outings might detest the views of the people they’re paired with — but they play with them anyway, and treat them cordially and in the spirit of friendly competition. It’s one of the great things about golf.
It’s just too bad that the concepts of tolerance and sportsmanship and getting away from the hurly-burly of the world while you’re out on the course aren’t shared by more people who apparently must view everything through a political lens, and hold everyone to rigid standards of acceptable political behavior. When somebody can’t go out and just play golf with the President without getting ripped as a turncoat, it’s a sad statement.
When I got back from golf today Kish asked me, brightly, “How was golf today?” “I sucked, but it was okay,” I replied . . . and it actually was true. I really did suck — horribly, completely, irrefutably, from tee to green and every hazard in between — but it was okay.
That’s a big change for me. I think I may have reached the fabled Day of Golfing Acceptance.
When I was younger, I hoped that one day I would be a good golfer who could regularly shoot rounds in the low 80s. Unfortunately, that hasn’t happened, and I realize I have neither the time, nor the talent, nor the temperament to devote the hours of practice needed to make a significant improvement in my game. The difference now is that I’m not going to become infuriated at myself and the Golf Gods about the bad shots and the bad scores. So I suck. So what? I’m reconciled to the fact that I’m always going to be a mediocre player who shoots in the 90s.
That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the game. In fact, I’d argue that it’s more enjoyable when you’re not blurting out awful curses at shots into the weeds or bad bounces on the green. And who knows? Maybe some day I’ll decide I do want to try to be a better player — but that day is not today. Today I was awful, but I liked getting the exercise and sharing a few laughs with my golfing companions. I’ll take it.
News outlets are reporting that Robin Williams has died, of an apparent suicide. The actor and comedian, who was only 63, evidently had been battling severe depression.
Williams became a big star on the TV show Mork and Mindy, and over the next four decades he had a busy career in stand-up comedy, in movies, and as the voice for animated characters. Although many lauded his movie roles, both comic and serious, I always thought that Williams’ true medium was in his stand-up routines — his riff on Scotland and golf, below, is a classic — and he was absolutely brilliant as the voice and motivating spirit behind the manic genie in Disney’s Aladdin.
We tend to idolize Hollywood stars, musicians, and other cultural figures, and think that because they are rich and successful they must have wonderful lives. Unfortunately, that isn’t always the case — they are human like the rest of us, and they also often wrestle with their inner demons. It’s tragic that someone like Robin Williams, who brought joy and laughter to millions, had to struggle with his own issues of depression, and it’s sadder still that he apparently lost that battle. Although we no doubt will hear about how the world has lost a titanic talent over the next few days, the real loss is that experienced by Williams’ family, who now have a gigantic hole in their lives that can never be filled.
Golf has a problem: it’s hard to be good at it. Golf has another problem: it’s expensive. And, golf takes time to play. In short, it’s not exactly a game calculated to appeal to a younger generation that grew up playing video games and getting participation trophies and positive feedback for every endeavor.
If you own a golf course, this trend is a serious concern. In many communities, like Columbus, there was a golf course building boom in the ’80s and ’90s, and now many of those courses are struggling — with some private clubs becoming public or semi-public or folding entirely. Golf courses are economically viable only if there are players willing to pay to play.
I’m no golf purist, but these kinds of ideas seem like a panicky reaction that would ruin the game rather than popularize it. The golf establishment should simply accept that golf is not going to appeal to everyone, and if a few golf courses fail, so be it. Golf is supposed to be a struggle, and it inevitably will have its frustrations. It’s not a sport for someone looking for immediate gratification. The attraction of the game is not easily shooting low scores, but rather legitimately improving with practice so that when you do play a good round it really means something.
I haven’t been able to swing a club for months because of my foot, but I’m looking forward to the day when my doctor gives me the go-ahead to get back on the links. I’m sure I’ll curse my ineptitude, but at least it will be golf I’m playing — not some bastardized effort to appeal to impatient people with short attention spans who need constant reinforcement.
Phil Mickelson won the British Open today, and it made me happy.
I’m a Phil Mickelson fan, and I’m not sure exactly why. I’ve never met him, never watched him do a soul-searching interview, and haven’t read a lot about him. But whenever a major championship rolls around, I find myself rooting for him.
If you watch any golf on TV — and for me, that’s pretty much limited to the major championships — you can’t help but have a favorite player that you root for. The players are out there, all alone, having to keep their nerves under control as they attempt shot after shot. Inevitably, you see players in good times and in bad times, when they are playing poorly and when they are playing well, and when the breaks are going their way and when the golf gods have capriciously decided that it is time for the player to suffer some pain. As a result, you feel like you know them, even if you really don’t.
Why do I like Phil Mickelson? I like his approach. I like the fact that he seems to be a family man and isn’t shy about hugging his wife and kids. I like how he keeps his head up when times get tough. I like how he takes calculated gambles, and is willing to stake everything on the possibility of making a spectacular shot. I like the fact that his face is more expressive than you see on most golfers.
Congratulations on this win, Mr. Mickelson, and thanks. Your triumph brought a smile to my face.
It’s summer, it’s Sunday morning, and I’m in Columbus. That means I’ve got a standing engagement at the golf course with my Sunday morning group.
The same three guys have been playing golf at the same course for years now. I’m not sure how many times we’ve played or for how long, but it’s been so often that it feels jarring when another person joins our trio to make it into a foursome. The newbies don’t know where to stand on the tee, or they talk too much, or they play slow. Our little group walks and plays “ready golf,” where everyone goes straight to their ball, gets set, and hits their shot when the way ahead is clear. To our way of thinking, bad golf can happen to anyone from time to time, but slow golf is inexcusable.
I’m the worst golfer in our group. That used to bother me, but it doesn’t anymore. I don’t practice like I should or work on my game, and I don’t play as much as I would like, either. When you don’t make the effort to try to get better, how can you expect to improve? But I do like those calm Sunday mornings, like today, when the air is cool and the course is quiet and the grass has that fresh smell and our merry band works our way around the familiar links, talking about nothing in particular.