The golf clubs in my garage are covered with cobwebs, two years of inactivity will do that.
I’m not purposely neglecting my sticks, it’s just being busy with so many other things has completely killed my golf game.
But you know what? I really haven’t missed it all that much.
Like most who golf sporadically, I love the game but hate it at the same time. It’s funny because it seems like the more I play the less I love it. Strange I know.
I think it’s because as a former Division I athlete I just think I should be better than I am. If I’m doing something athletic on a regular basis I figure I should become pretty good at it. But that’s just not the case with golf. Like any other golfer, it’s those rare great shots that keep you playing, and those terrible ones that make you want to ditch your clubs.
As my daughters become more involved in athletics I find myself spending much more time coaching them and working with them and far less time thinking about golfing. Perhaps that’s a clear sign that I’m finally growing up.
There are things about the game of golf that I do love, the peaceful, serene calmness that comes from teeing off in the early morning hours. There’s just something about hearing that distinct sound of a ball being hit by a club and have it echo through the woods.
I miss those fond memories, but what there are plenty of things I don’t miss. Like how my driver instinctively pushes the ball to the right every time I use it, except when I try and over-compensate for it and then it doesn’t. Or how about the fact that I can hit my most trusted club, my 3-iron, right around the same distance every time except when I need to hit it around that distance.
If my golf clubs could talk, they’d tell some pretty good stories. How they’ve been thrown, chucked, tossed and slammed. How they’ve been used to fish golf balls out of ponds, retrieve balls out of trees and chase off annoying geese and skunks.
There would be good stories too, like the only eagle I’ve ever had at Minerva Lake Golf Club in Columbus or the time I holed out from around 165 yards (with the 3-iron) at National Road Golf Course.
You know the problem with the game of golf? I’m two years removed from the last time I swung a club and I’m thinking I could go out today and shoot a respectable round. When you haven’t played in a while you only think about the good shots you’ve ever hit. You forget about all of the flubbed shots, you forget those shot series that go: rough-to sand trap-to sand trap.
You forget the occasional swings and misses, you forget the three-foot putt that becomes a four putt. You mysteriously forget all of those bad shots and only remember the rare great ones. That’s what’s wrong with the game of golf, it’s the temptation or occasional brush with greatness that keeps you coming back.
With this all being said, I’m thinking it’s about time to literally dust off those clubs, dig out my golf spikes from somewhere in my trunk and hit the links. I guarantee you the first couple holes will go pretty well and then I’ll start feeling pretty good and reality will sink in.
By the middle of the back nine, I’ll probably be cussing and fuming and ready to throw away my clubs. But luckily for me and those pesky geese, it’ll probably be another two years before I play again.
Chris Miles can be reached at (740) 852-1616, ext. 1618 or via Twitter @MadPressSports.