Trashflower

I’ve spent a lot of time making fun of golf. The little white balls, the funny shorts, the hours and hours that people spend on perfecting their “swing”. All to get the little dimpled ball into a hole with a diameter of 4.5″.

For my birthday, I got a brand-new set of golf clubs. Still in the bubble wrap even. It was mostly because the company that I work for is big into golf. So into golf that they have sales meetings at the golf resorts as an excuse to golf.

Naturally, being who I am, I can’t just unwrap the clubs and go out and whack at some balls. I signed up for group lessons from a local golf pro – thinking that would be a good way to learn more about the game, especially before I started developing some less-than-favorable habits.

Today was my first lesson.

I almost didn’t go. It was a rough day at work, and starting something new, which I assumed I would be bad at, and being judged by the other students and the instructor was pretty darn low on my list of things to do. But I sucked it up and went, because, well… I did pay for it, afterall.

It turns out… I love golf. I love thinking to myself “shake left, hit, shake right” as I practice my half swing. I love the yellow balls you use at the driving range. And I love the noise the ball and club make when you hit it just right. I love the noise the ball makes as it clatters into the hole on the putting green.

The golf pro did tell me a couple of times that I had a nice swing. And I had fun chasing the ball around the putting green, so I think it will be easy to get myself to practice putting. Its also an easy place to perfect your game, and save a lot of strokes.

I’ll probably still make fun of golf shoes – because really, they are silly. I haven’t yet figured out why you need to wear spikes for this game. Do you really need traction? And I may still make fun of the shorts, even though I may wear them. But now I have a much deeper appreciation for the game. I love golf.