A Good Walk Spoiled

Day 122 (Written Thursday April 12) ~ “A good walk spoiled.” That’s how Mark Twain described a day of golf. I generally like Mr. Clements razor sharp sarcasm and literary genius, but I have to disagree with him here. I started playing golf when I was about 10 years old. My dad had taken up golf (since he destroyed his knee and couldn’t play football, baseball or basketball anymore) and he bought me a little kids set of clubs. I would go out in the yard with him and hit practice shots (we had a nearly two acre yard) with him each evening. Eventually I got old enough and good enough that he would take me with him. When I was about 13 he joined the Hillcrest Country Club here in Pulaski and we started playing almost every day. By the time I was 14 or 15 I was spending all day, every day at the country club during the summer. Mom would drop me off at 8:00 am on her way to work and dad would come at 3:00 pm when he got off and would stay until after 6:00 pm. This was the same for my cousin Clayton and several friends (Mary Sumpter and David Johnson, Kelly Brown and Carey Clark). We would play 18 holes, stop to swim and eat, play 18 more, stop to swim and eat, race golf carts, shoot fireworks, play tennis, play 18 and then go home. Rinse. Repeat. I would literally play 36 to 54 holes of golf all but two days a week for the entire summer. I got pretty good and I had a lot of fun. We got into some trouble that almost got our parents kicked out of the country club (racing golf carts, having fireworks battles on the course, jumping the golf carts off of the elevated tee boxes, hitting golf balls into traffic, turning the area around the sprinklers into slip and slides and much, much more). Jim Schoberl (I think that was his name) was the course superintendent and we kept him on his toes the entire summer (his son Richard is now an FBI agent, he probably got a lot of practice in catching criminals by watching us). We played in numerous junior golf tournaments and generally had the time of our lives. Once I got to high school I decided to play for the school golf team. Don’t worry, I also played football and baseball so it wasn’t as dorky as it sounds. I loved it because I got to play golf all the time and I got to travel to other courses and play for free. I actually qualified for the regional tournament when I was a junior, but didn’t play very well because a friend talked me into dipping Coppenhagen (for the first time I might add) on the way to the tournament. I was so dizzy I could barely walk (which I had to do carrying my clubs for 18 holes in the later summer heat) and when I finally spit it out, began the first of several times puking. Good times. Sarcasm. Despite what you may think about preachers, nowadays, I don’t play very much. In fact, today was the first time I have played in 3 years and the first time I have played at Hillcrest in nearly ten. How did I do? Believe it or not, I shot the best round I have ever played at Hillcrest. I even got on a hot streak (for me) and parred three straight holes. Honestly, none of that even matters. I quit playing for the score a long time ago. Now I just enjoy being outside on beautiful courses, spending time with good friends (my dad was with me, and so was my cousin and an old friend I rarely see anymore) and just relaxing. A good walk spoiled? Hardly. For me, it is a good walk improved.