Golf Is the Hardest Activity a Man Can Do
There isn't a close second.
There are warriors. There are astronauts. There are civil rights icons. And there are golfers.
My feet have blisters.
My face is acquiring permanent sun damage.
My back aches from supporting the entire world. And also from maintaining 120-mph swing speeds.
Golf requires strength, stamina, patience, elegance — and being handsome. All qualities star athletes like myself possess.
While ordinary people go to work each morning in climate-controlled offices, I put on my glove and perform unpaid physical labor for hours on end. I do it because it is my duty. Because I am a soldier. I do it for God.
GOOD GOLFER = HOT GIRL
Everyone is envious of the hot girl until you are one.
Nobody talks about the dark side.
The good golfer can't escape the limelight. He has to say hi to everybody everywhere. The valet. The cart-boy (who talks way too much while cleaning your clubs). The head pro (who is mad you don't take lessons from him). The beverage cart-girl, who has chosen to interpret your restraint as rejection. The members. And yes, even the groundskeepers wave to you.
The nonstop love is exhausting, but at least it’s not malicious. And believe me, there is plenty of malice.
There is a seething hatred at every corner. The jealous mid-handicappers who are constantly praying for your downfall while pretending to be your friend.
They call you “buddy” on the first tee, which is essentially the white boy slur. They pretend to look for your ball, then pocket it when they find it. They wear Malbon.
This isn't the UFC. The stakes are real.
SWING SPEED IS A CURSE
Hitting 300-yard tee shots is not a gift. It is a burden.
Nobody can relate to your misery because so few people are capable. Your hands become callused. Your calves seize. You wake up in the morning, unable to move, quietly assessing the catastrophic damage inflicted on your body by the previous day’s range session.
I now understand why women choose breast-reduction surgery. Nobody feels the back pain when the cameras are off.
They do not see the man standing motionless beside his bed, wondering if he can safely bend over to put on a sock.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a member-guest tomorrow, and my tee time is obscenely early.
TFM