I played my first round of golf in nearly a year this past weekend, an admission that may lead to my banishment from the honorable fraternity of golf-obsessed golf writers. There’s a lot of blame to go around for that layoff: my two sons, my boss, my hockey stick and tennis racket. While you’re at it, throw in my lawn and whoever’s responsible for high gas prices.
But I played this weekend in the miserable heat, and I’m not sure I’ve ever had more fun.
My advice for an easy way to enjoy a round of golf is to dramatically lower your expectations. From there, you can’t really lose. For instance, I was late to the first tee and my brother and his friend were waiting so I didn’t have time to take more than two practice swings, let alone hit any balls. So there I am on the first tee, going live with my first real golf swing of the year, and miraculously, I don’t hook it or slice it or worse, whiff outright, but send a decent drive just off the fairway and into the left rough.
It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible either, and that was the story of the day.
Somehow, the fact that it was so unbelievably hot only added to the experience. My brother and I are adamant about walking—to be honest, I can’t even picture him behind the wheel of a golf cart—and there was something noble about us plowing through the haze with our bags on our backs.
But the other benefit to the heat was the actual golf swing. Had my return from a year layoff come in the chill of April, I’d be tight, and I probably wouldn’t loosen up until May. But in the heat I could swing freely right from that opening shot on the first tee, and never look back.
Sure, we were exhausted afterwards, and when we sat down for drinks and lunch, we all felt as if were in a daze. I shot 95, and lost five bucks in wagers. In any other circumstance, I’d have been annoyed by that, or at the very least, embarrassed. Here it felt like a victory.
Most important, it made me want to come back again soon.
