FOREward! 50 days of golf

Golf in Wyoming.
Golf in Wyoming.

“So Dave, what do you do with yourself these days?” That tends to be the top question I’m asked anymore–ever since my self-imposed sabbatical began back in June. Well, when I’m not working on that novel, or recording a new song for my self-produced album project; or even arm wrestling with my Rover mechanic; you’ll find me doing everything I can to get in another round of golf. In fact, I just experienced my 50th day playing the game this year–all since my birthday in May. Last year was my first year–so I’m still an obvious novice, and I only got a dozen days in last year, but this year I paid some real dues and played a lot more than any of my avid golf buddies got to.

By round 45 I'd broken 100 twice, with a 95 & 96 ... that will hook you.

Of course, when you’re talking about golf in Wyoming or Montana in mid December, it’s more a game of surviving the elements, rather than one of khaki-clad-leisure. But, for me, it’s really about bettering myself at something new. Stretching my legs and that grey matter between my ears in ways that spark fresh challenges. Something as physically and mentally demanding as golf is, can keep a man alive, with a reason to keep living. Yeah, I’m at the point where hitting a nice fairway shot is much more appealing than middle-aged sex, especially when not having any.

I consider golf my health care plan; my cure for Alzheimer’s, Mud Butt, and all other old age curses you can think of. I don’t mean golf will make me immortal. But if you are working on a novel, or spending hours in a studio with your guitar as I am, then you’re likely not getting out much. So, when I golf, I usually walk the 5 miles that the 18 holes amount to; and almost always with great people, new and old friends alike, who “get” what I get about this crazy, wonderful game I’ve fallen for.

Yes, I started playing too late in life to ever be a pro, or even peak at my highest potential like I might have, had I begun at an early age. But, unless I get struck by lightning, or I drown, chasing a silly little ball into the deep water, I believe the game of golf will add many extra years to an already blessed man’s life. Therefore, I plan to still be working on my swing, long after my discount senior rates kick in at the club house.

In a spurt of rage after a bad tee shot, this fellow dredges the bottom of the water at this course in Montana for the flung driver. I don't care how poorly I ever play, I hope to never get this angry at the game. A bad day on the course is still better than a kick in the shin.