Being a golfer - past, present, and future
Now calm down there if you're not a golfer, I'll see if I can explain the emotion. And in case you're wondering about the pic at the top of this post, it's Buster Keaton at the Maryvale Golf Course before it was created, in 1961. It's from a promotional film made by the John F. Long Company for the new subdivision that they were building.
My dad taught me how to swing a golf club, where I grew up, in Minneapolis. I don't recall ever being on a golf course when I was a kid, but I remember going to the driving range, where you could practice. I was so self-conscious about how terrible I was, and I got a wonderful life lesson there, which is to look around you, and you'll see everybody is doing the same thing: practicing. My dad told me that. He was a golfer.
After I left home, the next few years of my life were mostly wasted, going to college in Tempe (playing every once in a while at Rolling Hills), and then I spend a few years in California, so my life didn't really get going until I was 31, and had moved back to Phoenix. All I wanted to do was golf, and I did. By the way, the interlocking grip, which was fine when I was a little kid, was wrong for me as an adult, as was pointed out by a pro that I hired for a few lessons at Palo Verde.
Yes, I had a job, which I worked at from 9 to 5. I was also a diligent boyfriend (I would like to think) and there may have been other things that I attended to, but my main focus was golf. I lived on a golf course, in an apartment complex called "the Greens", and every morning I'd hear golf balls bouncing off the roof, and slamming into my balcony, which was music to my ears. The golf course, called El Caro, is gone now, but it was absolute heaven to wake up and be on a golf course. My apartment was near the 13th green as I recall, and I could stand on the balcony and watch people cheat on their putting (yes, it happens a lot!).
Now don't misunderstand me, I was always a terrible golfer. I could hit 'em hard, and sometimes they'd go a mile, and sometimes they'd go sideways, or backwards, or I'd miss completely. But I had the spirit of a golfer, and the heart of one, and I still do. I always will.
The world looks like a golf course to me. If I stand somewhere with a scenic overview, I'm inclined to think that the area there to the left would be a nasty bit of rough to get out of. Water makes me wonder if I could carry the distance with my driver, or should I lay up with a three? And I still estimate distances based on clubs - if I'm walking somewhere I'll think that it would be a full nine-iron, or an easy wedge shot.
When I started teaching, at the Art Institute of Phoenix, when I was 38, one of my students overheard me talking about how much I liked golf, and asked me a question about Tiger Woods, who was the most famous golfer in the world at the time. I'd never heard of him, so my interest in golf seemed to be suspect. But I was on a golf course the next day, and if I ever did turn on the TV to watch it, I would immediately leave the house to go hit the driving range.
I sold my copies of "The Modern Fundamentals of Golf" by Ben Hogan a few years ago on eBay. I had a paperback version and a hardcover, which were well-thumbed. I hope that someone is enjoying them now, and that they have the heart of a golfer.
If you like pictures of old-time Phoenix, please become a member of History Adventuring on Patreon. I share a LOT of cool old photos there, copyright-free, with no advertising. Your support makes it happen! Thank you!
Comments
Post a Comment