Antics on the green
Golf; stands for Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbidden, well we know how long that rule lasted.
I am not a golfer; in fact I have only been golfing twice in my entire life. The first time was about a hundred years ago on the course at Base Borden. I was golfing with a golf maniac; let’s just say that I had to go through therapy to get over the trauma of that episode.
The second time was at Highlands golf course about twenty odd years ago. I was invited to give it a whirl with my friends (I will only use initials to protect the innocence of all involved) S., E., T. and of course the CEO. It was a lovely day and as was the custom twenty odd years ago, a little liquid refreshment was the rigor of the day. First mistake.
We proceeded to rent a golf cart as none of us seemed to be in the walking-for-miles mood. Second mistake.
Off we went, all piled into the cart only to be accosted by the golf course security to be told that golf carts were meant for only two passengers not five. We obliged the golf patrol officer by asking E., T. and the CEO to remove themselves from the cart, they could walk, and S. and I would take over the driving.
Somehow S. managed to fall out of the cart, can’t quite remember how that happened… Blame it on the liquid refreshment.
We managed to get our balls close enough to the hole with the flag in it that it necessitated someone to go and hold the pole with the flag on it out of the hole, in case by some miracle someone got a hole in one (insert riotous laughter here).
I volunteered as I had been the lead tee off person and had not located my ball yet. I stood a respectable distance from the hole holding the flag and watched as E. fired up, hit the ball with tremendous force and followed the arc of the little white dimpled sphere when Kaboom, nailed me right in the leg.
I know all too well what the phrase “deer in the highlights, frozen with fear” means. I fell to the ground, not writhing in pain, but rolling with laughter. Third mistake.
Let’s just say that the leg being hit with a fast moving ball was somehow attached to the nerve leading to my bladder, and I had to go home and change my pants.
I can write about it now because I am old, but I was mortified at the time.
S. knew what had happened and lent me her sweater to tie around my waist. The game was over for me. I think I had made it as far as the first hole.
Golf does not beckon me to try again. I have found that a robust game of Cricket is so much more entertaining and safer; Lawn Bolles is up there too.
Whatever your spring game is, get out and enjoy it.
