I played golf on sunday. There is nothing remarkable about that, after all I used to play every sunday morning in all weathers and would often play several times during the week too. When I left the Island just over a year ago, I ended my ages long membership of the golf club of course. I had already stopped playing competitive golf some time back when my hip seized up, and never really got back into the swing of it. (No pun intended)
My son was here at the weekend and he is rekindling his interest in golf and we do try to get out now and then even just down to the local par three course which serves to remind me of how difficult golf really is. Jamie had a terrible round and mine was only marginally better but it was nice to be out in the sunshine and all the way round we were serenaded by a cuckoo. I hadn't heard one for a number of years and it was a pleasant reminder that spring is here even if it has gone largely unnoticed.
It is a silly game of course. We go to great expense and use a great deal of energy to knock a little white ball into a hole. Admittedly the hole may be a long way fro where we begin but even so when it comes down to it, that is all that is involved. You might imagine that with practice it would bet easier and easier, until the task became simplicity itself. Those who play know different. It is a game of variables and they seem to be countless. Apart from the weather and the state of the course, there are all the internal variables that make it so hard. Most of the game is in the mind and it only takes one bad shot at the start of a round to sow the seeds of self doubt and then self destruction. On the other hand, during a bad round it only takes one good shot to make you want to come back and try again and again and again.
These days I find nine holes is more than enough for me and a full eighteen holes on a proper course would be a struggle. Oh for the days when I could manage thirty six holes in a day. Anyway, sunday was pleasant even though the golf was less than inspiring.
My son was here at the weekend and he is rekindling his interest in golf and we do try to get out now and then even just down to the local par three course which serves to remind me of how difficult golf really is. Jamie had a terrible round and mine was only marginally better but it was nice to be out in the sunshine and all the way round we were serenaded by a cuckoo. I hadn't heard one for a number of years and it was a pleasant reminder that spring is here even if it has gone largely unnoticed.
It is a silly game of course. We go to great expense and use a great deal of energy to knock a little white ball into a hole. Admittedly the hole may be a long way fro where we begin but even so when it comes down to it, that is all that is involved. You might imagine that with practice it would bet easier and easier, until the task became simplicity itself. Those who play know different. It is a game of variables and they seem to be countless. Apart from the weather and the state of the course, there are all the internal variables that make it so hard. Most of the game is in the mind and it only takes one bad shot at the start of a round to sow the seeds of self doubt and then self destruction. On the other hand, during a bad round it only takes one good shot to make you want to come back and try again and again and again.
These days I find nine holes is more than enough for me and a full eighteen holes on a proper course would be a struggle. Oh for the days when I could manage thirty six holes in a day. Anyway, sunday was pleasant even though the golf was less than inspiring.
No comments:
Post a Comment