Golf Stories
My two best golf stories do not involve anything on a golf course.
My college required physical education credits in order to graduate. Having golfed a bit as a teenager I decided to take the golf elective. Of course it was a very wide range of ability in the class and the instructors made us his plastic balls instead of actual golf balls. He lined us up in a long semi-circle around him and he demonstrated techniques for us. I wanted to hit the plastic ball as far as I could and swung extra hard. It must have been a hot day because my hands were sweaty. The club flew out of my hands. For a moment I had no idea where it was. I will never forget turning around to see the club flying end over end behind me - directly over the long row of people swinging at their own plastic balls. I remember the club seemed higher than the nearby tree. Fortunately, I landed a dozen or so feet directly behind the last student. I looked at the teacher, who of course took note, and collected my club with as little attention as I could. Near as I could tell only myself and the teacher realized what happened because everyone else kept busy swinging and no one so much as turned a head towards me.
When me moved to North Carolina my father insisted I take come of his old golf clubs. I resisted, but obliged. At some point I decided to use them on the driving range and made Lisa come watch me hit a bucket of balls. I changed through my father's old clubs and tested them all out. One club, however, reacted unlike any I have ever swung. Somehow the entire head of the club flung off and left me holding a metal shaft. I remembered my experience in college and nervously looked behind me for what seemed like an eternity. Again no one responded. I never knew what happened to the golf club head, but the experience unnerved so much that we left the driving range. I made sure to give my father a hard time for sabotaging me with a defective club, but I have yet to swing another.
My college required physical education credits in order to graduate. Having golfed a bit as a teenager I decided to take the golf elective. Of course it was a very wide range of ability in the class and the instructors made us his plastic balls instead of actual golf balls. He lined us up in a long semi-circle around him and he demonstrated techniques for us. I wanted to hit the plastic ball as far as I could and swung extra hard. It must have been a hot day because my hands were sweaty. The club flew out of my hands. For a moment I had no idea where it was. I will never forget turning around to see the club flying end over end behind me - directly over the long row of people swinging at their own plastic balls. I remember the club seemed higher than the nearby tree. Fortunately, I landed a dozen or so feet directly behind the last student. I looked at the teacher, who of course took note, and collected my club with as little attention as I could. Near as I could tell only myself and the teacher realized what happened because everyone else kept busy swinging and no one so much as turned a head towards me.
When me moved to North Carolina my father insisted I take come of his old golf clubs. I resisted, but obliged. At some point I decided to use them on the driving range and made Lisa come watch me hit a bucket of balls. I changed through my father's old clubs and tested them all out. One club, however, reacted unlike any I have ever swung. Somehow the entire head of the club flung off and left me holding a metal shaft. I remembered my experience in college and nervously looked behind me for what seemed like an eternity. Again no one responded. I never knew what happened to the golf club head, but the experience unnerved so much that we left the driving range. I made sure to give my father a hard time for sabotaging me with a defective club, but I have yet to swing another.
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