Golf. Ugh.

Sometimes when I'm starting an email, I have multiple directions I can go... whether it's because all of my options are so brilliant or because they are so weak isn't relevant (although sadly I think they tend to settle somewhere in the middle)... what matters is that I'm torn with indecision about which opening to use.

I'm stuck at that place this evening as I recap my second lifetime golf adventure/debacle. Rather that pick one, I'm going to give all three that occurred to me. Feel free to cut and paste your favorite into your "Ed O. Blog: Home Edition" activity book.

(Option One) A wise man once said that a golf course was a waste of otherwise perfectly good pastures. While I'm not sure that I'd go that far (I've never really been a massive fan of pastures), and I'm not altogether sure that Karl Malone is a wise man, I do know that most of the time golf courses are not my favorite places to spend a Sunday.

(Option Two) I am a member of the Washington State Bar Association, and I might be the only member that does not golf. I am bored by golf. I can name literally millions of things I would rather be doing (and I mean "literally" in the figurative sense, of course). So when I agreed to play golf as part of the Memorial Day trip to Oregon, I hope that someone was paying attention to my selfless display of family spirit.

(Option Three) I understand that country clubs need rules. They need to feel comfortable with how people dress and with how appearances of members and their guests come across. On paper, a "no blue jeans" policy might make some sense. But when I thought of the lunacy of me wearing my $8 Old Navy elastic wasteband shorts (which are allowed) rather than my considerably more expensive designer jeans, I had to shake my head and laugh at how messed up the policy really is.

I agreed to play golf on Sunday morning for one reason: to spend time with my brother and my dad. They had each had times in their lives when they'd golfed, and I hadn't, so I wasn't expecting to be able to keep up with even their low standards. Actually, I DID have a time in my life when I golfed; I'd butchered a course in Portland over 18 holes with some law school classmates. But I'd never felt the tug to come back. Still haven't.

The first hole went as I'd anticipated. It took me 16 stinking shots to finally put the ball in the hole. Awesome. At first I was a little embarrassed and I was a little frustrated, but as I worked my way through the remaining 17 holes, I remembered that I SHOULD be bad. Golf is a hard game, and I had neither the time nor inclination to ever try to become decent at it.

Over time, though, en route to my 177 (105 over par, if my math is right), I did find some positives:
-- I hit two decent shots of those 177 swings
-- I was consistently on the green in 7
-- I never yelled "fore" (although I should have on one hole. I yelled "look out!" and it did the trick. I rock.)
-- I managed to typed out a txt message to a friend without being yelled at by anyone (I think they'd learned to avert their eyes by that point)
-- I haven't been missing anything in my absence from the game

My dad and brother were great. They tried to support me and be positive, but it was a bit like applying antibiotical ointment to an amputee... the arm is gone, and polysporin ain't bringing it back. I simply can't play golf, and no amount of good vibes is going to stop me from hitting golf balls into any and all waterways on a repeating basis.

I actually did some research on Google and found the following facts about golf and its history:
-- OJ Simpson liked golf
-- Jesus, Buddha, and Mohammad all abstained from the activity; even Moses merely dabbled
-- Over two million acres of rain forests are converted to driving ranges on a quarterly basis
-- Did I mention the OJ Simpson thing? And do you remember that he probably killed two people? Yeah.

177 over 18 holes. If you play golf: think about that. If you don't: it's a really good score. I am a natural athlete and am great at everything I try to do.

Golf. Ugh.