HOLE in HELL AND HEAVEN

Golf is not an addiction but only an ingrained loony habit

I was just two feet from the hole. We were staring at each other. I, with a look of hope, the hole with sneering disdain. Suddenly I saw it shutting itself out. Unfortunately, I had putted already. Sure enough the capricious, cocky dimpled white spheroid, after pretending to get in, came out and rested on the very edge. The gleeful, ugly delight of the enemy twosome was diminishing. The contemptuous snort of my partner made me want to disappear into oblivion. A measly 24 inches, between the hole of hell and me, I had stupidly missed? Was this my bad karma.

Post trauma thoughts

God, I got up early morning said my prayers, took your blessings. Why is this happening to me? Why do you choose me to encounter, almost daily the holes of hell? O God please free me from this addiction. Grant me the strength to remain in bed snuggled with my sweet understanding spouse instead of the daily morning ritual of painful preparation for disappointment. God, when will I ever learn?

The Tee Off

Many eyes watch, some with a sense of anticipation. Your foursome has mixed feelings. Your partner eggs you on with a high expectation, completely unmatched with your skill. You are aware that the opposing two, want you to mess up!

You somehow brave all this with affected coolness and stroke away. The ball travels on the ground in the fairway and playable. The hypocrites yell out in unison “Don’t worry partner, you can recover in the next shot. You Pray, Thank you, dear God.

The second shot

Your caddy and you have a difference opinion on the club selection. He thinks he is your guru, coach, and mentor! He plays a mean game and is good at it. Yet who is he to tell me what to do? I have been at it for so many years. Many of my golfing well wishers have given me so many unsolicited tips (that still confuse me). The DVDs I have seen, the books that have been read and the preparations undergone make me a “know all.”

Back to the second shot. It was a par three. From start to finish you get three strokes. My partner wanted me to use a club that would give me a longer distance. My misplaced confidence coupled with seeing Tiger Woods using a short club made me take a shorter club. The ball providentially landed on the edge of the green about 30 feet from the hole. The rivals had reached within ten feet of the hole on their second stroke. My partner had hit the ball out of bounds. Everything now depended upon me. Pride, honor, was at stake.

I had to putt first. The opposing two had the typical smirk of jerks believing they would win. After all I had missed a two feet “Gimme”!

Pretence of Nonchalant bravado won the day. The Putt in Prayer, the invisible Guardian Angel guided the ball into its abode. That Heavenly feeling is the incurable addiction!.

AFTER THOUGHTS

O merciful God. You are so kind to this mortal sinner. Bless your ways of teaching humanity the wisdom and the waywardness of hope in playing Golf.

Hope is on that, one in a million probability of a par, let alone a hole in one.

All I know yours truly is a glutton for self-inflicted punishment. Or it could be Golfing fever!

Or Perhaps it is my rather dumb philosophy! Of misplaced optimism

Maybe it is also spousal indulgence and her compassionate tolerance in forgiveness of my lunatic obsession of a sport in which one seeks perverse pain, despite obvious incompetence.

Grace of Divinity

Thank you, dear God, for keeping me fit to chase the dimpled spheroid of many Colors, to become somewhat aware of hell and heaven. Golf teaches me that both are more in my mind.