Actually, I shouldn’t call myself a golfer. I just hit golf balls. Aggress-ively. And sometimes I throw things.
I’ve always thought of golf as a sport of the rich and retired. Zac, who is neither, enjoys it. He just doesn’t have the time or money to play very often.
I went golfing with him for the first time soon after we started dating in the summer of 2008. I learned two things about golf that day — the scenery is pretty and the holes are really far away.
Most of the time, I couldn’t even see where Zac was aiming. I asked once or twice and was told, “You see that little flag way out there?”
This particular course required Zac to hit over and around a forest on a few holes, which I thought was completely ridiculous.
I also had a hard time seeing where his shots landed. I got excited once when I thought I was following a ball as it flew through the air and bounced on the ground a couple of times. Unfortunately, what I saw turned out to be the head of Zac’s driver.
In May, Zac’s boss gave him a couple of passes to the Regions Charity Classic. The baby stayed with my parents while we enjoyed a day out.
The Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail at Ross Bridge was really a sight to see. So was the Ross Bridge community, where the resort and golf course are located.
The drive through Ross Bridge told me all I needed to know about the kind of people who live there. They share a love of Mercedes-Benz and very expensive homes. A loft/condo in Ross Bridge costs $180,000. A lot on the golf course sells for nearly $900,000.
Of course, commoners like Zac and I weren’t allowed to wander around. We were bused to the golf course from Regions Park. Zac said it was because there wasn’t enough parking at Ross Bridge. I’m sure it was also so that we didn’t have transportation to make off with the good china.
Zac enjoyed seeing the course and some of the golfers that he watched on TV as a kid. I had never heard of any of them, so I had to pick my own favorite.
It turned out to be Fuzzy Zoeller. Fuzzy won The Masters and U.S. Open in his heyday, but that means nothing to me. I just think he has a cool name.
We kind of stalked Fuzzy for most of the day. We left with some pretty good pictures of him and his autograph. So it was a successful stalking.
After two years of sitting on the sidelines, I recently tried my hand at golf. Zac took me to the driving range one day to use the new driver I bought him for our anniversary.
I hit a few balls and was very disappointed in my performance. Most of my shots landed a few yards in front of me. More than once, I missed the ball completely and either came up with a clod of dirt or nothing at all.
After that, Zac and I hit some practice golf balls in the yard a few times, and I had myself believing that I was getting pretty good.
Then came our infamous Father’s Day golf trip of 2010. I didn’t intend to play. I just wanted to see what I could do on a couple of holes.
It did not go well. I swung several times before I even hit the ball. When I did, it landed on the fairway. It just wasn’t the fairway of the hole I was playing.
While Zac was busying hunting for one of his golf balls later, I decided to drop a ball on the fairway and see if I could reach the hole. I eventually got so mad that I just threw the stupid ball.
I’ve heard that golf reveals a lot about a person’s nature. I already knew that I’m a hothead, but it’s nice to have confirmation.
If golf brings out my impatience, it also provides the cure. Zac has told me more than once that I don’t have to hit the ball that hard. I just need a nice, clean swing.
So I concentrate on keeping my head down, arm straight, feet planted. I can’t control everything, but things usually work out best when I focus on the few things that I can.
So it is in golf. So it is in life.