WHY I PLAY GOLF

Many retired punters fall over themselves bleating about how cool the post-work world is and join the rest of a growing flock in the refrain (or is that chorus?)- ‘I don’t know where I found the time to work’ etc etc. I’ve never experienced or demonstrated that loud euphoria since last polishing some shoes or manipulating a tie just over three years ago.

The very first thing I noticed when I separated from the nine-to-five routine was that I suddenly had a lot of free time on my hands and I mean A LOT. Significantly, that status has been enduring right up to the present.

The waiting room pastiche that confronts the rapidly aging punter who has a shitload of empty spaces in his diary can be a bit tricky. Traditional indicators and/ or activities that usually signal the end is near include-

• joining a line-dancing group,
• woodworking projects in men’s sheds,
• attendance at mind-enriching rom com movies and musicals,
• APIA-sponsored clubland revival shows. I thought that Daryl Braithwaite and Marcia Hines were both dead but apparently not,
• any trip on ‘The Ghan’ which serves as Oz’s equivalent to the carousel in Logan’s Run, and
• capturing a relentless array of happy snaps and video footage related to whales breaching and babies babbling.

I’ve managed, so far, to sidestep much of the above by focussing my damaged attention skills on golf. There are a number of reasons for this. I’ve played golf on and off for all of my life. While it hasn’t been a continuous fully-blown relationship, it is a comfortable and familiar association. Secondly, I possess all the equipment needed to make a fool of myself on any goat track. The blades may well be over thirty years old but they still work on infrequent occasions. However, the persimmon woods do look like they’re straight out of Jay Gatsby’s cart bag but I’m reluctant to don loafers to complete the vintage look. That’s my only defence. Lastly, there are quite a few golf courses in and around Bogan Greystanes so that lengthy pilgrimages aren’t necessary.

Golf has few peers as a potent time-waster. To recoup the annual membership subs at Fox Hills, I’ve calculated that I only have to play 28.45 rounds every month for the rest of 2018. What’s more, I’m in possession of a ‘complimentary’ bar tab of $100 so that one can loiter around the 19th after an invigorating eighteen holes in 35 degree heat and ‘enjoy’ the soup of the day at the franchised bistro.

As every hacker knows, golf’s central maxim that you’re a prisoner to your best shots and a victim of your worst always comes into play….. no pun intended. A fucked-up wedge shot into a welcoming and unprotected green requires at least five subsequent practice shots to re-establish the equilibrium. Even a quick nine hole romp can turn into a three hour epic when slight adjustments to the backswing scream for on-the-spot workshopping.

But golf really comes into its own as a pastime which is OCD friendly. Clubs need to be cleaned, stats recorded, balls accounted for, the bag prepared and driver yardages ascertained. The rituals that slowly creep into any fair dinkum assault on the course become just as important as the hitting of the ball. In fact, I’ve often stepped up onto the first tee exhausted from having the gear just right for a crack at the title. FYI The record still stands. I’m shit when the pressure’s on………. even with a spotless bag.

It’s worth noting that the positive vibe I’m pushing here does falter on occasions. The Fox Hills’ field of dreams can morph into a kind of dystopian nightmare of lateral water hazards, high banked bunkers, ball thieving crows and unfair pin placements where any chance of a mid-round redemption seems as close as Neptune’s fuckin’ orbit around the sun. Whether this is a function of my age, abilities or equipment often remains a mystery. I never let it get to me, however.

The irony in all of this is pretty evident. As I traipse around the Toongabbie 5500 metre layout two or three times each week, I’m surrounded by punters who look and play just like me. Sure, some may be a couple of holes ahead or a few holes behind but we’re all heading in the direction of the tough Par 5 slightly uphill finisher. Now that alone may not be a good thing.