When I was about twelve years old my dad bought me my first set of golf clubs. It was always a highlight for me when he and I would travel to a nearby town to play. We had to drive to another town because the only course in our town was a private country club.
I’ve loved the game of golf my whole life. I love to watch the PGA and I love to hit the ball. Honestly though I’m not very good. After all these years of trying to play this game I’m still not very good. A really good day for me on eighteen holes of golf is a score in the low 90’s. Most of the time I shoot around 100. I have two basic problems that block me improving my game one is I’m not really built for golf but that could be overcome if I could over come problem number 2. Problem 2, in order to improve you need to play more than 2 times a month or even once per week. You need to hit balls everyday. The problem? Who has the time and/or the money to do that?
At the age of fifty-two I struggle with why I keep going back to the golf course and spending good money to get frustrated with my lack of consistency. But I do have the answer to that question. Golf is a drug. That’s right! I’m a drug addict, a junkie, a golf junkie. It doesn’t matter how poorly I play, all it takes to keep me coming back for another fix is that one perfect shot. Just one time when the sweet spot of the clubface meets the ball, the flight of the ball is perfect and a sweet feeling of satisfaction courses through my veins. It’s such an awesome feeling.
I have a saying; “Golf is a mysterious game.” It’s so mysterious to me how one day on the links the game goes well and I leave satisfied. I can return the very next day and it’s like I never held a club in my hand. Today I had one of those days.
Today I played golf with my good friend and the student pastor on my staff, Chris. It was a competitive round of golf because we both played so poorly. It was so bad that for me it became comical. Chris wasn’t amused. After eighteen holes I asked him if he wanted to try another nine and before I could get the word nine out of my mouth he responded with a firm “NO!” “I’m giving up this game,” he said with a tone of frustration. I’ve said that before. I’ve said many times that I would never go back. Sounds like the words of a true junkie.
The only problem is that I lay in bed at night and rehearse in my mind how I was swinging the club and I always think I have figured out the problem and I must go back to prove my theory or I remember that sweet feeling of a sweet shot. It brings me back for more.