By BOB WIRE
Like a lot of men, I enjoy doing things that I’m not very good at. Like golf. I’ve played since high school, but never enough to get to the point where I’m consistently breaking 80.
I haven’t been on the course for a couple of years for various reasons, but this past weekend the universe conspired to get Barb and me out for a leisurely nine holes. That’s right, the kids were out of town.
So after we finished doing a few of the things people do when their kids are out of town, we decided it was high time to see if I could find my golf swing. I hunted around the garage for my clubs, but they were not there. Weird. I mean, I’ve lost a club here or there, like that time a 3-wood slipped from my grasp and flew 40 yards into a pond at Larchmont. But how could a guy lose a set of clubs? Even a guy like me, who never breaks 90?
I played exactly one round of nine holes last year, so I called the course. “Yeah, hey, I was wondering if you guys found some golf clubs there last summer.”
“Yeah, we found a few. Which club did you lose?”
“All of them.”
“What? Hey, Eddie, this guy lost a whole set of clubs. Ha ha. You find a set of clubs?”
“I can hear you,” I said.
“Oh, sorry. No, we didn’t find a whole set of clubs. Sorry.”
I cannot overstate the importance of playing with clean balls.
We would not be denied our day in the partly cloudy sun, though, so Barb and I stopped by a yard sale on the way to the course and snagged a pretty decent set of clubs for $30.00. The kids had given me a dozen balls and a new glove for Father’s Day before they left town, so I had everything I needed. Even a caddy.
I thought it would be a good idea to hit a bucket of balls before going out on the course and trying to break 100. Barb sat in the cart and watched while I hooked, sliced, toed and shanked about fifty balls. The other golfers on the range gave me a wide berth. Smart kids.
“You ready?” she said, turning the key to fire up the motor.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll all come together on the first tee.” I loaded my new used clubs onto the back of the cart and climbed in next to her. “Hit it.”
She punched the gas and pulled a tight U-turn, heading for the first tee. I heard a crash, looked back and saw my clubs and bag scattered on the grass. I’d forgotten to strap them in.
“Whoops.”
This oversized, Golden Bear titanium driver adds 30 yards to my slice, easy. And it’s filled with Flubber.
We retrieved the clubs and joined another couple at the tee box. After introducing ourselves, we watched the guy tee off from the blue tees at the back of the box. The ball exploded off his club and screamed 300 yards down the fairway. I picked my jaw up off the grass.
“It’s all yours, Bob,” he said, stepping off the tee box. I stabbed a tee into the turf and balanced a shiny new Nike “Super Distance” ball on it. Then I addressed the ball. “Look, just between you and me, ball, I don’t care too much if you stay in the fairway. I just don’t want to embarrass my wife.”
The guy cocked his head, and said, “Are you talking to your ball?”
What form, what discipline! Watch me put this right on that lady’s front porch.
I turned. “Was that you, Don? I’m legally blind. I’m talking to myself. My therapist at the VA hospital says it builds confidence.”
Don clammed up as I banged my first drive of the year. Not bad. It stayed in the fairway, and went almost halfway to his ball. I used my driver as a makeshift cane and walked slowly to our cart, where Barb slowly shook her head and sank lower in her seat. Don and his wife sped away to the ladies’ tee.
And it’s a flawless shot from the sand! Too bad it wasn’t my ball. oops.
Barb doesn’t play, but really enjoys driving the cart and helping me look for my balls. We cracked a couple of Coors Lights and she hit the gas.
“Well, that’s one,” she said.
I sipped my Silver Bullet. “Yeah. Gonna be a long season.”
They say you’re supposed to stretch out after a strenuous athletic endeavor.
Check out all of Bob Wire’s posts in his blog archive.
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Think of it as Gonzo meets Hee Haw: Missoula honky tonker Bob Wire holds forth on a unique life filled with music, parenthood, drinking, sports, working, marriage, drinking, and just navigating the twisted wreckage of American culture. Plus occasional grooming tips. Like the best humor, it’s not for everyone. Sometimes silly, sometimes surreal, sometimes savage, Bob Wire demands that you possess a good sense of humor and an open mind.
Bob Wire has written more than 500 humor columns for a regional website over the last five years, and his writing has appeared in the Missoulian, the Missoula Independent, Montana Magazine, and his own Bob Wire Has a Point Blog. He is a prolific songwriter, and has recorded three CDs of original material with his Montana band, the Magnificent Bastards. His previous band, the Fencemenders, was a popular fixture at area clubs. They were voted Best Local Band twice by the Missoula Independent readers poll. Bob was voted the Trail 103.3/Missoulian Entertainer of the Year in 2007.
You can hear his music on his website, or download it at iTunes, Amazon, and other online music providers. Follow @Bob_Wire on Twitter.
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