The Virtues of Golf

The Virtues of Golf

By Michael Albalah

Note: I had a lot of jobs in college. One of those jobs was to forecaddy at the Rutgers Golf Course. Rutgers had ranked in the top ten for public university golf courses the year I started. My job description allowed me to hang out up the edges of the fairways to trace errant drives so as to cut down on the amount of time the hackers spent looking for their ball. My job entailed getting to the course at the crack of down and driving around. I drove around the golf course as the sun rose and the mist evaporated, alone, a lot. I loved this job. A perk of the job was that I was able to play golf for free, I would always have the driving range and the course for free, but sometimes even my friends were able to reap the benefits. I played a lot of golf. But the truth of the matter is that this job allowed me to nourish roots that were firmly planted by my Grandfather years ago. I wrote about my appreciation for the sport, I owe all of the good times on the links to Leonard Nightingale.

I could not imagine marrying some of my favorite things in a more cohesive way then the sport of golf. Let’s analyze some of the components of the sport, develop an appreciation for the aesthetic, and take an analytic approach to the game. Said game is played outdoors, always, and the molding hands of Mother Nature herself shape the experience. The recurrent iterations of natural features is the first, and most appealing, dynamic fundamental component of the game that lends itself so beautifully to those who appreciate being outside. Additionally, basking in the sun is a creature comfort, and none more comfortable then the warm embrace on the back of your neck as you watch your playing partner launch the little white sphere deep into the uniform blue expanse. This is only rivaled by the blood tingling exhilaration of watching the ball actualize the exact coordinates per your pre shot visualization.

A perfect demonstration of a golf swing unfurled.

Sometimes you are challenged by the crippling humidity and struggle to maintain your mental composure during the grueling marathon of eighteen holes. Other times you are forced to squint through the shifted tracers of rain as they race across your visual landscape.

Appreciating the sport of golf begins with the humble acceptance of your relevance in nature, and the triumphant feeling comes from knowing that you can be a formidable warrior who used the elements as tools rather then distractions. Be weary before you approach that first tee box; it is not a right to embark on the journey through the next 18 holes, it is a privilege, one that demands a deep understanding of oneself and ones capabilities. Do not blame the elements or the game for your lack of appreciation. Remember, like an ignorant child blameless in his frustration yet unwarranted in his criticism, “This doesn’t make sense!” It, golf, physics, it all makes sense; it, those elusive two letters are accessible only to those who search it out gracefully.

Each participant has up to fourteen tools in the bag for which to capitalize. The set of fourteen clubs offers three discrete different shot shapes at either of three discrete trajectories and the infinite range between. These are the options for which your cumulative set of wrist flicks can sketch a round. Your scorecard is a mere tally. Every shot, hole, front 9, full round are an opportunity. This all proves daunting; golf should not be digested in its totality. Rather each morsel of experience should constitute a part of the whole (pun intended). The skilled performer can hone full attention on each swing while simultaneously acquiescing to instinct; only by trusting in preperation. This only after methodically calculating the appropriate shot needed. Each instantiation requires full and unwavering attention. Upon completion, a quick pro forma invoice begs to be submitted for processing; were my lines good, how was my weight, did I keep my head down? I suggest passing the invoice to billing, transcend the component parts, trust the preperation, graduate from benevolent pot bellied participant to weekend warrior acclaim.

Ok, pass me a beer.

The crack of the can [always use cans, they are drop proof] turns adults into pavlovian dogs. Fun is paramount. While balance is the answer to any moral quandary, beer is the answer to any beverage imposition on the golf course. Where vices are welcomed, communally indulged, where sport meets recreation, the golf course is where you come to enjoy being.

Existing in the 21st century is the navigation of distraction. Playing golf equalizes foursomes by virtue of identical to do lists - play gol! The busiest individuals are forced to hunker down and enjoy the marathon of social and physical expression. You and your playing partners imitate intimacy in a unique relationship; not totally teammates but by definition, not strangers either. Becoming tools for self-reflexivity a playing partner is woven into your experience. If they are your best friends they can be cheerleaders, hecklers, coaches, psychoanalysts, glorified cup holders and everything in between.

Can you enjoy the sport on your own, yes, but you are never alone. You are willfully detached and with this come great responsibility.

The narrative of a round of golf is not dissimilar to life. You must know when to accept the current predicament, trust the future blight is less bleak, determine which of the medicines are more tasteful medicine, grimace, gulp, and go. The peaks of elation, the valleys of frustration; life is not a game – but golf most definitely is. No one swings the exact same way. No one plays the exact same shot. Play more golf.