Golf is Golf

I adore watching golf. I fear playing the sport. Strangely, I only play one sport: tennis. I watch and have an opinion on almost every sport, including tennis. But golf, golf is good.

About a month ago, I was on the way, with my husband, on our honeymoon, to The Players. And that has taught me more about golf than I had already known. A few years ago, I was in 'military protocol' and was, at least twice, somewhat in charge of a golf tournament. Years before that, I 'worked' at the Pebble Beach Pro-Am. I had a 'contact' in the golfing world due to an instructor I had in military tech school. Her husband was Grounds Keeper (or something of that ilk) for Pebble Beach. So, she got whoever wanted to work the Pebble Beach Pro-Am. I had an incident the week prior with a famous person, someone who I will always admire, and I saw him play at the Pro-Am. It was exciting and fun.

And between the PB Pro-Am, the Golf Scrambles that I was 'in charge of' (there should be an asterisk, as I didn't even know what mulligan meant) and various other things, including a grandmother who thought Fuzzy was dreamy and that the Golden Bear was a god (she was right on one part), I have learned that golf is the perfect sport.

It's the great equalizer. No matter how great an athlete you are, golf is a game of patience and sometimes controlling and not reveling in your athleticism. Just ask MJ, the greatest basketball player ever. Just ask the recently humbled New England Patriots QB. And ask the duffers and people out there who just adore the sport, and play at it.

Golf is a sport that is unlike any other. Golf is a sport that no one is afraid to say that they play, if they own the clubs (or at least rent them) and yet no one will admit just how bad their handicap is....

But back to The Players, since I started there. The Players... the 17th. I've seen it now, and I swear, it looks smaller than it does on television. My husband and I spent the Final Sunday propped on the hill beside the 17th watching the golfers hit their dimpled spheres onto the island green. Strangely, few missed. And none missed more spectacularly than Sean Ohair. You should have felt the collective gasp and release when his first shot went into the water. You should have felt the audience sag when he missed the third shot (second shot taken, third because he had lost a stroke). Hubby and I were duly impressed by Phil that afternoon. He was such a gentleman. We had believed the hype and the back stories about Phil being rude. He wasn't. Maybe he has finally grown up.

And maybe it's just Butch.

But golf is golf, and on that final Sunday in Ponte Vedra, everyone knew what Sean Ohair felt. And that is, golf is golf. It's not conquerable, it's not beatable, it's just golf.

And that's why I am afraid to pick up the clubs, but I will do it soon.