About age nine, I learned two things, one from my Dad and one by myself:
1. Golf takes a long time to play.
2. Golf balls go further than baseballs.
Regarding the first item, my Dad was military, and I learned these things in Germany. There were no courses near our American community, so however long golf took, it took even longer there. When Dad played, which wasn't often, he would always come in at night.
Regarding the second, my first memory is taking one of my Mom's wooden clubs -- couldn't use Dad's because he was left-handed -- and belting it from our backyard (in a community apartment complex) into a neighbor's balcony. I didn't hang around long, so I don't know what happened after that, but I do remember my first feeling...
Golf balls go further than baseballs. A lot further!
I even liked the smell of them.
And their 'stickiness,' one against the other, right out of the sleeve.
I liked the painted, wooden tees, too. Dad had a million of'em in his canvass bag -- in all different colors -- and I would dig down in there and bring'em up by the handful.
I didn't touch a golf club for the next five years -- and then only as a caddy in the chicken-wire pen behind the putting green at the old O.B. Keeler Golf Course in Kennesaw, Georgia -- but I guess then and there is when I learned the truth...
I love golf.
So now we've reached age 14 ...can you share with us a little more...how this romance continues
Hybrid Mode
