Why the hell do I like golf?!

First and foremost, let me extend my apologies to my faithful readership. I know that it is extremely difficult to get through a week without getting your fix of my hilarious blog. But sometimes, even I get sick of the sound of my own voice. Even when it's in written form. Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder.


So, to the question of the week: Why the hell does a 6'7", Black man enjoy hitting the links? The answer to that is that I honestly have no idea. It just doesn't make any sense. It's a very expensive and elitist hobby. It takes forever to come close to being remotely good at it. Oh, and let's not forget the latent and blatant racist undertones and overtones that score this entire activity.


I would be remiss if I were to proceed any further without telling a little story that my old friend shared with me. If you're a real reader and not the fake type, you know him as Thousand Fields. The story goes like this: He was watching an episode of, "The Late Show with David Letterman." The guest that evening was the talented Mr. Samuel L. Jackson. During the interview, Mr. Jackson expressed his interest in golf. In fact, as a sidebar, I personally know that whenever Samuel L. Jackson does a movie, he has it written in his contract that the producers pay for his membership in the local country club. Mr. Jackson went on to describe an incident where he was out playing golf at one of these exclusive clubs and the grounds keeping crew gave him rather sideways glances. Thus implying that maybe he didn't belong there. At the very least that his presence was out of the ordinary. Mr. Jackson then humorously inferred that those glances were the crew's way of saying, "Does Mr. Williams know you're out here?"


Now I've never actually experienced anything like that. And certainly, as golf has become more and more popular, I've seen an increase in the diversity of players. Nevertheless, I have felt a certain amount of "pressure" as I've attempted to play a round of golf. One incident that comes to mind was when I was at the driving range at Chelsea Piers. It was a particularly hot day and I decided to take a break from hitting balls (badly I might add) and hang out inside with the air conditioning. I was on the second or third floor of the facility so there weren't that many people around. So as I'm hanging out there a guy walks up to me and says, "Do you know where the bathrooms are?" Now, maybe I'm over-reacting, but I got the distinct feeling that he was asking me that question as if I worked there. And I sure as hell didn't pay an outrageous sum of money to be mistaken for an employee. (Not that there's anything wrong with employees) I responded with a very terse, "I have no idea." He very quickly ascertained the insensitivity of his question and began to apologize profusely.


But to be perfectly honest, I think that a lot of the tension that exists is primarily self-generated. For the most part, golfers are a community of people who have been playing for years. Some people are pretty good at it and some suck ass. Everyone is trying to get better. Everyone is actually trying to enjoy themselves. Even when it doesn't look like it. Granted, some people are assholes. But that doesn't make them racist. It just makes them assholes. My concern has always been that if I were to screw up in some major way or commit some horrible golfing faux pas, then whoever would see the infraction would draw some derogatory conclusion about my race in general. And I can assure you, it is very difficult to bear the entire imaginary weight of a race of people on your shoulders. I don't recommend it.


The bottom line is: Nobody gives a shit. They're all just trying to do their thing. If anyone is focused on who I am or what I'm doing, then they're a dick. And dicks come in all colors. (I've heard)


So let's move on to some of the good things about golf . . . Um . . . Hang on a minute . . . I know there's at least one . . . Well for one thing it's a great way to get outside. Yeah, I know that reason sucks. All I can really say is that I've been fascinated by this "sport" for a very long time. I remember when I was about 12 years old and I lived about 3 blocks away from a public course. One day, a bunch of friends and I just snuck on to the course and started playing. We had 1 golf club between about 8 of us and everybody had one golf ball for themselves. And since I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, I was promptly demoted from participant to observer. Which sucked, but like I said before, it was a great way to get outside. I never went anywhere near a golf course again until many years later.


While I was working at Xerox, a co-worker and friend of mine expressed his interest in golf. During the lunch hour, he would drive to the range and hit a few balls. Since my curiosity had never waned, I decided to accompany him on these outings. I did surprisingly well to start. But then, as I learned more and more about the proper way to swing a golf club, the worse I became at it. As the years passed, and my obsession became more, well, obsessive, I finally decided to break down and buy a set of golf clubs.

And now, many years later, I've invested tons of money and time and, while I have gotten somewhat better, I still have yet to break 100. (Which is a huge improvement from like 140. By the way, professionals shoot around 68) But I keep at it. I must master it. I read tips online; I watch the Golf Channel; (The Golf Channel?! Really?!) I play whenever I can get a chance. In fact, one of the great pleasures of the recent Passover was the fact that I was able to arrange a golf game with my girlfriend's brother-in-law. What the hell is wrong me?!

Okay, I'm actually going to give a serious answer. It may not be sexy or exciting, but it really is the truth. Whenever I go out and play golf; No matter how well or shitty I am playing, I can't think about anything else but golf. That's it. If I've had a bad day; If I've had a great day; If I have a big audition coming up; If I haven't had a decent audition in weeks. None of it matters. All I want to do is play well on that day. All I want to do is be successful on that one shot. And it takes every single fiber of my mental being in order to pull it off. If I make bad shot, then I have to figure out what I did wrong. If I make a good shot, then I have the even more difficult task of trying to figure out what I did right.

Whether you want to believe me or not, golfing has become an incredibly expensive form of meditation. It is the ultimate exercise in mindfulness. It is a highly intricate and complex activity. And it just so happens that I love things that are complicated. Some may say that I even over-complicate things. But I don't have to worry about that with golf. It's plenty complicated as it is.

So there you have it. I think the worst part about this week's blog is that people will actually have less respect for me now than when I admitted to puking down 5 flights of stairs.