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Golf stories and an old joke.
If you drink, don't drive. Don't even Putt! - Dean Martin
Golf as a New Religion
Golf is a new religion, well actually not that new, not as new as say Mormonism or the Moonies for instance. Do Mormons play Golf? Who Knows? OK, one sentence in and I'm rambling already.
Start again. Golf is a new religion compared to all the big religions.
You don't think so?
Well consider this. The origination of Golf is obscure, disputed and the mists of time shroud its first occurrence.
It has its own set of bizarre governing tenets mostly referred to as Laws but they could equally be called Commandments.
Golfers, like the Druids before them, worship in great open-air temples. Not Stonehenge or Avebury but Carnoustie, Augusta and Troon.
In the past, religion went hand in hand with blood letting and ritual sacrifices (see Druids above). Golf is different; although I have played with folk who would behead those caught treading on someone else's lie.
It has a bizarre and arcane language all its own. Only those who are true believers could tell you what a niblick, (Imagine a German speaking Pidgin English, as in 'Mein Herr, I am niblick this biskwit') a mashie (Scots phrase to do with potato preparation) or dormy three (very large windows) really are.
The Church is a huge landowner as are Golf clubs. No one ever says 'lets knock down that slum tenement to build a golf club'. They say 'let's buy up huge swathes of this green and pleasant land and give it over to a game'.
The church is fighting a losing battle to exclude women priests much as 'male only' golf clubs are. Thank you very much European Court of Human Rights!!
Religions have Bishops, Popes, Rabbis and Imams to spread the word. Golf has Peter Alliss and BBC Sport, in the States they have those guys who always sound so relaxed they must have had Perry Como's Greatest Hits injected straight into a vein.
Of course as religions go Golf is a star in the ascendant. Who do you think gets most people through its doors on a Sunday? Both forms of worship do end with a drink though.
And then there are the deities. Minor local ones, Justin Rose for example and the big ones at whose feet we should prostrate ourselves and give thanks (you know who I mean). Those with Druidical tendencies or members of High Church probably still follow the old Gods (Palmer, Nicklaus, Watson and Player).
As with any religion, there is a dark side. The faithful are tempted each week to kick a ball out of the rough, miraculously 'find' a lost ball or add things up wrong (honest, it's the way I write my fours). Fortunately the way that is pure usually prevails. There are those who exist on the fringes of any religion. The church has its fair share of charlatans, false gods and TV evangelists whilst Golf has agents, sponsors and Media millionaire TV company owners.
A friend of mine who originally hailed from Aberdeen (where Golf is a more relaxed, C of E kind of a game) won a minor tournament in England (where zealots of the strictest, Scottish Presbyterian kind run Golf. How weird is that?). Trouble was he was wearing his comfy old Dunlop Green Flash plimsolls he'd played in for years. The religious maniacs would not allow this unclean specimen in their clubhouse in his 'damned' plimsolls, nor would they allow him in barefoot (which is one difference between a clubhouse and a mosque). They handed him his prize through the clubhouse window.
Many religions insist on a certain dress code, a yarmulka for covering the head, a Bourka or twin set and pearls for covering the women. So does golf. I myself recently won a lovely pair of pale lemon trousers and bright coloured V-necked sweaters always look so manly, never mind my trusty old plus fours.
Division, schism and differences of interpretation mark out religions. This is a problem Golf does not have. The laws or commandments handed down by the blessed R & A govern the world game. There is within this the facility for minor local laws like the one on a course in the forests of Upper New York States about hitting a bear. Apparently it's a free drop a clubs length from the bear but you'd better hope your stray shot killed the bear.
Buddhists believe in a great chain of being; we should strive for perfection in this life so that we come back higher up the chain in the next life. The handicap system marks out the steps on the chain of Golf; we start off at a 28 and through diligence and perseverance we slowly begin to climb until we reach Nirvana - the winners' podium at the British Open. There are those for whom such a climb is not desired. These people are called 'Bandits' - those for whom the idea of improving ones handicap is as unthinkable as John Daly saying 'Another slice of Gateau? Mmm no thanks. I'm on the Atkins y'know?'
As a Golfer, one thing you cannot do is lie about your level of dedication. The bloke who says he only plays once a year is like the one who only goes to church for The Nine Lessons and Carols service at Christmas. A golfer would never say 'Yeah, of course I believe in Golf but I worship at home in my own private way.' Wouldn't work would it?
Being accepted, finally, as a member at your local club, well it's just a rite of passage, much in the same way that confirmation or circumcisions are.
So, next time the census form comes to you, in the box for religion don't put 'Time Lord', 'Disciple of the Dark Lord of Mordor' or 'Jedi', put 'Golfer'!
Them and Us: Differences between Pro golfers and mere mortals.
There is no doubt about it, the professional game, the one we see on the telly, is about as far from the game many of us play on a weekly basis as can be imagined. I'm not just talking about money here either. What follows is a short list of some of the things that distinguish the two levels of the game.
Did anyone ever hear a hissing sound on the 18th green of a Major tournament?
Does Greg Norman ever lean across and say to Tiger Woods ' You might want to watch out for that Lake over there mate!'
Has Nick Faldo ever said to Woosie, in that irritating small boys voice, 'It's in the saaaand'.
Have you ever seen a big tournament winner on witnessing his opponent miss an easy putt for the tournament ever gone bouncing round the green screeching 'I'm the man, I'm the man, I'm the man; an' you, you is my bitch'.
Did Mrs Nicklaus ever insist that the Golden Bear mow the grass or take his little princess to ballet before he could even think about going to play 'that wretched game'?
Did Nick Faldo ever arrive home from the clubhouse to find his belongings stacked on the doorstep? Well Ok in this case I'm not sure that he didn't but you know what I mean.
Has Colin Montgomery ever woken on a Saturday morning to the sound of his clubs being fed into the waste disposal?
Have the microphones ever picked up this conversation in the first round of the masters?
'What did you hit that with?'
'I'm not telling you that'
'Looks like a six to me. What do you reckon?'
'Could be but that might be too much club'
'Yeah right. You took a six didn't you?'
'Well if that's what you think mate'.
'Look, can you two just stop bickering and get on with it?'
'Ooooh, so you're off the phone then?' etc etc.
Professionals are relieved of many of the golfing stresses that afflict the rest of us. They are never faced with the conundrum of whether to humiliatingly beat the boss or to let the enfeebled, inept old tosser win. When playing with a friend, pro golfers never need say encouraging things like 'You really are improving all the time you know' when the bloke is patently getting worse by the stroke (I know you all think that, I can see it in your eyes).
10 Things not to do on the Golf Course
1) Kick the front window out of your buggy on the 18th just in front of the clubhouse.
2) Pull a gun out of your bag and start to take pot-shots at the ornamental ducks on the water hazard near the 15th. Grenade fishing for the Koi carp in the pond on the 4th will illicit pretty much the same response.
3) Fake a heart attack in order to put a halt to the awful game you are having. The only thing worse than this for putting a crimp in your playing partners morning is having a real heart attack.
4) Convincing a girl that a romantic interlude at night in a bunker would be the next best thing to being on a beach in the Bahamas may seem a bright idea in the pub but - you never know where some clown has left the rake.
5) Having cute names for all your clubs and talking to them in the way that mad old ladies talk to their pet Chihuahua's.
6) Being insufferably cheerful drives people nuts. On a golf course applauding every one of your opponents shots or showing sympathy for bad shots by saying things like 'Never mind, its only a game' or 'Oh dear, oh dear, you do have to laugh don't you'. Such behaviour may well see you requiring the services of a decent orthodontist.
7) We have all been on the course with some clown who coughs or talks interminably regardless of whether someone is lining up a shot or not. Players are able to deal with this kind of crass behaviour. 'Will you shut the ***k up' usually does the trick. However players are really put off when their fellows cluck like chickens or keep running into the trees covering their head with their hands and shouting 'the sky is falling, the sky is falling.' Getting a full scale ordinance survey map out after each hole in order to check your bearings for finding the next tee is also liable to make folk a trifle scratchy.
8) If, whilst thrashing around in the undergrowth, you uncover a body, never reveal this to anyone. The body was put there by someone who is a) demonstrably capable of murder and b) possibly on the club membership committee. (This rule particularly applies on courses around Chicago, New York and Chipping Sudbury).
9) Never take gay comedians or drag queens on to the course. I fully support equal rights for gays but the sound of juvenile tittering engendered by the terms 'ball' 'hole' 'club' 'length' 'shaft' and so on would be too much for many people to take. You'd never get to play around. See what I mean, double entendres are clearly contagious.
10) And remember, drinking beer and golfing is just fun!
An old Joke!
A man finds himself marooned on a desert island. He has survived for some time but he is just about at the end of the road. He's not eaten for days and the small amount of drinking water he had is about to run out. He is sat on the beach contemplating his fate when completely out of the blue a curvy 6-foot blonde in a skin-tight wetsuit emerges from the waves. She walks slowly over to him and says in a husky voice 'Would you like a drink?' 'Oh yes please' he replies. With this she reaches up to the zip on the front of her wetsuit and with thumb and forefinger gently tugs it down a few inches, reaches in and comes out with a pint of ice cold lager. Astonished, he gratefully accepts. 'Would you like a little nibble of something?' she asks. 'Would I ever' is his response. At this she undoes the zip a little more reaches in and comes out with a steak sandwich. 'Wow' he says as he takes the offered delight. 'Now,' she says reaching toward the zip once more 'would you like to play around?' 'Blimey' he shouts 'don't tell me you've got a set of golf clubs in there as well?'
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