Golfing With Uncle Fred ...

When Uncle Fred invited me to join him at the club for a round of golf I politely declined. Why? Because Uncle Fred considers himself to be a golf aficionado and many of us think otherwise. This started at the end of the ninth grade when his grandfather was late for the early morning tee-off at the annual family golf tournament.

When Uncle Fred was asked to tee-off for his grandfather he felt as if he had already won the grand prize - a decorated Tim Horton's coffee cup. He could taste the victory even though this was his very first golf game. He was so proud that the two top buttons popped out of his shirt and disappeared in the grass.

Uncle Fred's father, a kind and considerate balding man with long sideburns, suggested that Fred start at the ladies tee. Fred would have none of that. Instead, he declared, "The ladies tee is for the ladies in the family and I'm a man."

His comments met with resounding applause from the gathering of aunts and cousins who always accompany these players like a wedding entourage. This was a family tradition.

Fred had the opening shot because his grandfather always had the opening shot at the family golf tournament. He reached for a driver from his dad's golf bag and carefully wiped the head with the little black IBM towel hanging from the golf cart.

He then held the driver with both hands and extended them forward. He swung it over his left shoulder and his right shoulder before settling over the ball. He then rocked and he wagged his butt. Then he rocked and he wagged his butt some more.

Fred then looked up, put his left hand over his eyes and surveyed the freeway. It was lined with tall trees on both sides. In the distance he saw a golf cart with two old timers happily hopping along. Just ahead of them the flag at the first hole fluttered in the wind.

Uncle Fred turned to his dad and asked, "Should we not wait until they go past the first hole?" Before his dad could answer, the restless aunts and cousins bellowed in unison "Just hit the ball!"

Without further ado Uncle Fred adjusted his cap and swung the driver as hard as he could. It hit the ground about three inches short of the ball and scooped out a chunk of grass. "How's that for a warm up shot?" he asked. "Just hit the ball!" was the unified response.

That did not stop Uncle Fred from rocking and wagging again. As the driver went backwards for the swing his grandfather burst through the golf party and noisily shouted, "Fred! What are you ..."

A startled Fred turned in the direction of his grandfather's voice but followed through with the shot and fell backwards on his dad. His aunts and cousins gasped in amazement as the ball effortlessly climbed into the sky. After what seemed like forever the ball veered to the right and disappeared into a treetop.

To everyone's surprise, it immediately shot out of the treetop and climbed a little higher before it started descending. As they watched, the ball drifted across the freeway in the general direction of the old timers and their golf cart now parked near the first hole.

As you might guess, the ball ricocheted off the golf cart, flew perilously close to one of the old timers and dropped onto the green. Yes! It rolled past the old timers' balls and fell into the hole.

Everyone gawked in amazement as Fred jumped into the air shouting, "Yes! I did it! I did it! A hole-in-one. I did it!" His grandfather was the first to hug him as he pranced around like a peacock. The ensuing pandemonium caught the attention of some other golfers, most of whom never made a hole-in-one.

Since that faithful day Fred told everyone about the hole-in-one and he talks about it incessantly. Now you know one reason why I politely declined Uncle Fred's invitation to join him for a round of golf. There is a second reason. One that is a little personal.

I always see golf as a kind of goofy game, one for people with serious issues. I feel that way about golf because countless grown men and women take time off from work and family, get dressed up in expensive clothes, wear special shoes and make every effort to hit a little ball as hard as they could. To make matters worse, they immediately go looking for the little ball that they just tried to hit into oblivion.

Why anyone in their right mind would want to hit a little ball as hard as they could and then go looking for it is beyond me. And, as if that is not bad enough, they willingly pay lots of hard earned money for the privilege.

I wonder why they call it "green" fees? Could it be because of the amount of money people have to pay? If this is not the height of madness then I don't know what is.

To support my long-standing conviction, this morning the local radio announcer said, " A man got three years in jail for playing golf!" I said, "Yes! Finally, somebody out there is getting it!" Then the announcer went on to explain exactly what happened. No, his game was not that bad.

The man went golfing with his good friend on a warm sunny morning. Together, they consumed an inordinate amount of beer before they got to the eighteenth hole. The man who got three years in jail reportedly ran the golf cart over his golfing buddy. Apparently, his blood alcohol level was 4 to 5 times over the legal limit.

His golfing buddy ended up in the hospital with life threatening injuries and he ended up in jail for three years. He was charged for operating a vehicle while under the influence of alcohol and causing bodily harm. He lost his driving license too.

While watching a recent soccer game I realized that there might be some method to the apparent madness in golf. At the very least it is more civilized than other sports because each player bring and play with their balls.

Golf is nothing like soccer where twenty-two grown men pull and shove and kick each as they vie for possession of the one game ball. Would it not be less chaotic if each of them brought their own ball - like they do in golf?

The more I think about this the more I realize that soccer have at least one thing in common with some other popular sports like basket ball, base ball, football, cricket, soft ball and broom ball. Yes. They all have one game ball.

Hockey is similar in that it has two competing teams in each game. Hockey is different too; it has a puck instead of a ball. Another significant difference is that the players are expected to hit each other during the game. A visitor from the Caribbean once said that hockey appears to be of the same sport genus as boxing and wrestling.

Going back to golf. It is probably the only game in the civilized world where players get to drink and operate a motorized vehicle while under the influence of alcohol. Now you are beginning to understand why I see golf as a game for people with serious issues.

The future of golf is that a few players will hit a hole-in-one. Many of them will consume an inordinate amount of beer and operate a motorized vehicle while under the influence of alcohol. Hopefully, no one will run over Uncle Fred!

All this talk about drinking is making me thirsty. Why don't we go into the house and get a drink? I could live with that! What is your favorite drink? My favorite drink is one that would make most seasoned scotch drinkers' cringe.

Many of them like their scotch on the rocks or with soda but I like mine with orange juice. I leave nothing to chance when I'm having a good 12-year-old scotch. I mix one ounce of Chivas with two ounces of orange juice in a glass with only two ice cubes. Let's go!