On the weekend I participated in my first game of golf. Sounds fun, right?
Well, you're talking to a girl who not only avoids all sports and is unable to turn a cart on her own or even write a believable article without thorough explanation of the sport from organizers.
I went golfing in northern Saskatchewan with my boyfriend, Chris, and his co-workers as a summer work party and camping weekend. That last part, I was looking forward to but as the day drew closer I was coming up with reasons why I should show up late, after golfing was over.
To make things worse, Chris told me his boss has got a hole-in-one just before our golfing weekend. I was praying I wouldn't have to golf in front of her and make a fool out of myself and that I would have Chris with me for encouragement.
Clearly, my prayers were not heard. Not only was I teamed up with his boss, Susan, but I also shared her clubs and rode in the cart with her. And Chris was on the opposite team.
People encouraged me to give myself a little liquid courage to loosen myself up but I knew that would only help to make an even larger fool of myself. I encouraged everyone else to take their own advice, hoping they may not remember my inability to hold or swing a golf club correctly.
On the first of nine holes, Susan's husband gave lessons to those who hadn't golfed before, which was a smaller number than I had hoped for.
But since he was on the opposite team, I decided I shouldn't take advice from the enemy. And perhaps my liquid courage had begun to sink in, convincing me beginner's luck would help my performance. So, I passed on the lessons.
I laughed while the beginners stood awkwardly, shakily swinging their clubs and watching the balls bounce along the ground, barely making it out of the tee off box. I laughed even harder while Chris concentrated and watched as his ball dove about 30 feet to the left, as he was aiming straight ahead. He too had never golfed.
I waited until the opposing team was far enough ahead before stepping up to tee off. I placed a pink tee in the hard ground with a little help from Susan and was handed a club.
I stepped up to swing for the first time and before I go any further, you must know there are two versions to how this day played out: the vision in my head and what actually happened.
I was encouraged to take a few practice swings. “Practice swings? That's completely unnecessary,” I thought to myself. But I took their advice.
I swung my arms, just as gracefully and powerfully as Susan had – at least in my head. But instead, my club only went back about a foot and a half before tapping the ball and watching as it stumbled across little clumps of grass, barely making it out of the tee off box. In my head, it went much further.
Luckily, we were playing best ball, or something of that sort. For them, this all made sense. For them, it meant getting in the cart and looking for their golf balls on the greens or in the bushes. For me, it meant walking forward about nine feet, picking up my ball and climbing in the cart.
At one point, I hit my ball about 35 feet. This was a huge accomplishment for me. Everyone congratulated me and I felt really proud of myself until the next member of our team stepped up, hit her ball and watched as it fumbled along the ground right next to mine.
I heard the other two team members encouraging her that she could do better next time. This is when I realized my best hit was another member's worst. I decided to take up their advice on that liquid courage.
Luckily the weather was nice (you always have to talk about the weather when you golf, right?) and I even got the ball in the hole once and was crowned the team's putting master, even though it never happened again. I also got the ball off the ground once, which led to an embarrassing victory dance and high fives all around.
In the end, Chris and I won the same title: the “Don't quit your day job,” award, if you can call it that. This was for the lowest score on each team, which many people might see as failure but I was proud that I even made it through the nine holes.
And the last prize Dairy Queen gift certificate made my loss taste a whole lot better.
