Slow Exit
We’re all for the post-round handshake or bro hug. Once done with that, though, get out of the way. Other people are ready to play to the green, and what they don’t need is you fumbling for your phone, keys and wallet, or putting away your tees, ball markers and balls, or wrestling your headcovers on like you’re battling an alligator, followed by sitting in your cart recording the final tallies – all while situated just off the green. Rest assured, the people behind you are muttering under their breath what kind of golfer you are.
SPOILING AN ACE
I went on a first date at my local par-3 course years ago. We got to the first hole, and he said something about it being a serious match. I laughed, thinking it was a joke. We teed off and both hit the green. I two-putted, and he three-putted. I could sense some tension but thought nothing of it. Who wouldn’t be mad after a three-putt? His next tee shot was short, and mine looked like it hit the back of the green. I didn’t see my ball when I got to the green, so I assumed it rolled off the back. As I searched the rough, he called my name. With a stunned look on his face, he pointed to the hole. No way. I walked up to find my ball at the bottom of the cup. He didn’t congratulate me or even seem happy for me. I felt so awkward I didn’t even celebrate my first – and only – hole-in-one. He had a quiet intensity the rest of the round. After nine, he announced our scores – which I didn’t know he was keeping. I had won, and he was clearly unhappy. “Did you take it easy on him?” the ranger joked as he drove by. My date didn’t even give him a courtesy laugh. It goes without saying there was no second date.
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LEAVING GUESTS DRY
and I’ll admit I was as or more eager for the actual liquid refreshment than the social cheer of sitting with fine company. That’s when our host said, bags slung on our shoulders at the foot of the car park, “Have a nice weekend, boys. I’m going to go practice my putting.” I hit terrible traffic going home, as the other guests would have, thirsty the whole way.
We had just finished a fantastic summer Friday afternoon round at a top private course. Our host and my two fellow guests had all played well, enjoying a close match. A 19th- hole drink would have been customary, though I have no issue when people must scoot for family, work or other obligations. Having just walked in hot weather, my throat was parched,
The Petty
Complaint “Ask anyone who has ever played golf: When you are three feet or less from the hole and near someone’s line, you don’t mark the ball with a quarter. You mark it with a nonreflective penny.” I once heard a major champion say this after stumbling in with a 75, complaining about his less- accomplished competitor. Friend, if you’re shooting 75 or 85 or 105, and you’re blaming somebody else’s ball mark, the only thing in this scenario that’s nonreflective might be you. Play better.
LOVING A FORFEIT A season-long match-play tournament might be the most rigorous of any competition to win if only because of the scheduling gymnastics: Someone has to work, someone’s picking up his kid, someone has been put- ting off her colonoscopy for months. In a singles tour- nament a few years ago, my buddy had locked into an early Saturday-morning match against a high-handicap member he had never met. Texts were exchanged, and a tee time was secured. The hard part was over. The night before, my buddy had a date night with his wife and ordered a clam dish that, well, if ever anyone wanted a mulligan. From his knees that night, a few belt loops tighter than he was at dinner, he at least had the fore- thought to text his opponent. “Food poisoning hit me hard. Can we reschedule?” The response was immedi- ate: “Actually, I’ll take the forfeit.” Not, Sorry to hear it. Not, Make sure to hydrate. This was warfare, with shop credit at stake. My buddy slinked back into bed. He has refused to enter the tournament since.
74 GOLF DIGEST SOUTH AFRICA
JUNE 2024
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