|The golf course is where great stories are born ... and self confidence goes to die. (Tim McDonald/WorldGolf.com)|
Sitting around our cigar-smoke-filled editorial office, we sometimes take a break from mixing cocktails and pinching the secretary to peruse letters from our fine readers, who, for the most part, are the salt of the earth, no matter what's in that restraining order. Anyway, here's a collection of golf stories from hell submitted by the readers of BadGolf.com.
I was playing golf with a friend and his wife for the first time. She was a sweet lady in her mid 50's. She was doing terrible. I noticed that one of her problems was that she would approach her next lie and immediately swing with taking the time to properly address the ball. She was still a long way from the green after her eight shot on a par 4 when I approached her and as gently as I could offered, "Kathy, have you ever thought about taking the time to address the ball?"
"Oh yes!" she replied, "I just called that one a no good son of a bitch!"
It was 10 minutes before her husband and I could stop laughing and continue the game. I love telling my hole-in-one story to whomever will listen long enough.
Lloyd, Butte Falls, Ore.
I was golfing at our local nine-hole course and I was displaying my usual hacking ability when we approached the sixth tee. The sixth tee at this course is a 400 yard straight on par four. I strode confidently to the tee with my 3-wood in hand and blasted a ball into the air. Straight into the air. About sixty yards to the left. It flew through the air and landed on the first green which was tipped forward away from us. When we walked onto the green, my ball was nowhere in sight. After looking around for a few minutes, my partner looked in the hole and, sure enough, there was my ball!
A hole in one from the sixth tee to the first hole!
The male ego is a well bruised thing. About three years ago when starting my job I heard about a group going out for golf. Having just started work, I didn't go out, but thought a good idea would be to get some clubs and lessons before trying out. I bought some cheap clubs and went to the range with my wife for a couple of lessons and some practice swings. Of course, my ego said I could hit it better than my wife could, they went further. Then the tournament came up ...
They went further, all right. Further into the trees, into the long grass, into the wrong fairway, into the water. On the 'longest drive' hole, I whiffed the ball off the tee about 2 inches. On the closest-to-the-pin hole I shanked it into the fence right behind me.
All this and I still got to carry home two trophies - the one my wife won for lowest net score and the one my wife won for closest to the pin.
My wife and I continue to golf, I see myself as not too bad, she sees herself as terrible. Funny, how the better you are, the worse you think you are. We are now duffing shots using graphite shafts and titanium... I think we are hooked.
After a duffed drive, our good mate and playing partner, Lex threw his club in some nearby Heleconia plants. Naturally he immediately thought better of it and we spent quite a while searching for his errant driver. Eventually my brother, Ken, located something in the bush and cracked us all up by asking Lex what type of club he was using. We laughed so much at Ken's dry humour we had to let the next group play so we could compose ourselves.
Bruce Holmes, Cairns, Australia
After finishing a round at one of the local clubs, my playing partner and myself were sitting on the patio deck watching the other golfers come into the ninth and 18th holes. Discussing the blown eagle/birdie and par on the 18th, I looked down the ninth fairway to watch a women hit her approach. Without thinking I realized that she had overshot the green. Being 20 yards past the hole I knew that there was no need for concern. However, with a nice perfectly made shot to the top of the sprinkler head, the ball became thirsty for some of my beer. I was a little bit tipsy and made a comment to the partner that the ball was "heading right for us". The usual approach would be of course to duck and cover. So I ducked, JUST enough to take the loose projectile right in the middle of the forehead. Knocking me out of the chair and doing a barrel roll when I hit the deck. The first comment was "Is he ok??" with that in the open, I replied "Yep, didn't spill a drop." At that the deck erupted in laughter and the lady that had dimpled me bought me another beer for my troubles. I was fine, but her next shot off the deck looked to be a a tough shot! I took cover inside after that for a little while.
Sean McLean - Kingston, Ontario, Canada
Years ago,when I first took up golf, I made it a habit to play when I knew the course was not busy (about 4 p.m. on weekdays). One such day in early Spring, I found the course relatively busy. The starter paired me with two very nice gentlemen. After playing one hole, we found that the groups in front of us were very slow. It took us forever to get through the first nine holes. As we came around the turn, we found the 10th hole empty in front of us. As we came around to the 11th, we found nobody in front of us. This same scene greeted us with every hole until we finished our round! We really had a great time playing on the unhurried back nine. As we finished putting the last green, the gentlemen invited me for a drink in the clubhouse. I gracefully accepted and started for the clubhouse. The clubhouse was abandoned and locked up tight. The parking lot was empty. There was nothing human in sight! With a very strange feeling I packed up my gear and went home; I later found that the entire area was evacuated because of a very large and (dangerous) gas leak!! Evidently, we were missed when the rangers evacuated the golf course! I'm glad none of us made a spark!!
I have enjoyed reading the golf stories provided by your readers. It reminded me of a few experiences of my own:
1. When I first started playing 25 years ago I suffered from momentary lapses of reason and a club would go flying. One sultry, summer afternoon, I was playing with a friend and his wife and I was not having a stellar day. After shanking a pitch shot I lost my composure and gave my wedge the heave-ho. It spun magnificently, helicopter style, against the azure sky. Even now I can remember the warm breeze, the birds singing, and the voices of the foursome as they where about to emerge from around the corner of some brush near an adjacent tee box.
I watched in horror as the spinning missile neared the corner of the brush. I was already imagining a disgusting tale of impalement appearing in the local newspaper when to my wonderment the club stuck in the wet turf about 10 feet in front of the surprised group. The handle quivered a few times but not as much as my voice as I attempted to blurt out something about the club slipping and that I was very sorry. I have calmed down a bit since then.
2. Early on a Saturday morning, we were the first group to tee off at a short par 3 course near a campground. My comrades teed off without incident and I was determined to do the same. I uncorked a 300-yard drive (150 yards out and 150 yards up) and I thought it was never going to come down. I also pushed it right, and it came down on top of a small metal camper with a sound in the stillness of the morning that could have been mistaken for a clap of thunder. I quickly hit a provisional and marched with purpose down the fairway. As I drew even with the trailer, out of the corner of my eye,I noticed a man in a loosely tied bathrobe and hair like Einstein standing with his hands on his hips, staring at us. Knowing I had thrown a wrench into his peaceful escape weekend, and being a peaceful man myself, I never turned my head nor did I break stride. I did not breathe easier until we were on the second tee.
3. My regular golf partner, Dave, and I were playing with our associate pastor one afternoon. We were having a grand time and at one point found ourselves on a rather hard par 5. We all approached in somewhat good fashion, but Dave pushed his third shot off into some trees. The trees were far enough apart that he had a shot. The other gentleman and I waited near the green for Dave to chip on. He took a nice smooth backswing, made good contact and the ball went about 25 yards, hit a tree squarely, and the ball rolled directly back to its original position. He never had to move. Of course the two of us fortunate enough to be on the green were stifling giggles. Then I made the statement of, "You know, a guy could stand there all day, and not be able to do that." Of course, you know what happened next. It was like instant replay. Again, he never had to move as the ball settled back into the same spot. By this time we (not Dave) were helpless with laughter, doubled over and nearly falling down. After that, whenever the sound of a ball striking a tree echoed through the woods, we would stop, hold a hand to one ear, and ask if anyone else had heard the sound of a"Davepecker" in the forest.
Three of my buddies and myself were out golfing when we came to the seventh hole, a short par 3. The first guy up hits four balls in a row straight in the water. He gets so mad, he takes his 7-iron and breaks it over his knee. Then it was my turn to hit, so I got up on the tee and, right in the middle of my backswing, I hear a big crack. I look up and I see my friend in our cart and behind him, I see a tree broken in two. The cart starts to smoke and then dies and would not start back up. So my friend grabs his clubs and took off running to his car. While running to his car, he was not paying attention and ran straight into a tree and knocked himself out.
Josh Mann, Monticello, Ind.
A few years ago I was playing in our annual Hacker's Open scramble. I had been drinking for a while I came up to the longest-drive hole. Of course, the tee had a couple of groups backed up. I saw the marker was within reach so I planted myself on the tee and prepared to crush it a mile down the middle. I swung and to my surprise, my ball was floating up in the air in front of me. Without taking a step, I caught my ball, put it in my pocket, went back to my cart, grabbed my beer, and moved on to play from someone else's tee shot.
Scott M., Springboro, Ohio
August 2, 2000
Any opinions expressed above are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the management.
As one who watches more golf on television than seems healthy (the danger point is watching more than you play), and one who is headed for carpel tunnel for having to hit the "Return" button (set to ESPN) to escape all the automobile and pharmaceutical commercials that appear after every two shots, I feel I've earned a license to comment on the PGA Tour's presentation on the idiot box.
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