As a golfer, I can appreciate Mel Brooks’ definition of Tragedy and Comedy
“Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die.”
A little harsh, but then again, you’ve never played golf with my friends.
My experience Saturday on the Alpine is either really funny or really tragic, depending on your perspective. I've decided it’s best for me to just think of it as a Cinderella story.
Nobody wants to hear hole-by-hole descriptions of other people’s golf games. To be clear, the only people that manage to feign interest in your hole-by-hole accounts are salespeople looking for orders, relatives looking for inheritance, dogs interested in getting that piece of bacon that fell out of your club sandwich, or people too polite to hang themselves right there on the spot. In light of this, I will spare you the details of my round.
All you really need to know is that I was shooting the round of my life. It was one of those days when you feel like you’re playing Golden Tee.
“Just ease it back and fire away.”
Fairway, green, putt, putt, tip hat to the gallery.
Fairway, collar, putt, putt, smile and nod.
Fairway, green, putt, putt, putt.
All DAY. (with a couple minor bumps)
The weather was perfect. The Alpine was pristine and I was ruggedly handsome.
At this point, any of the guys who have been out chopping with me recently will have trouble reading this because they are laughing hysterically. Me playing well is inconceivable and the handsome bit is a real gag. Chill boys. My biggest critic (my wife) was there and everyone knows she wouldn’t lie about my golf game. Besides, the really good part is next.
At hole 14, I was in the middle of shooting 3 consecutive pars after clunking a little bit around the turn. Just then, the dinner bell rang.
This wasn’t your ordinary dinner bell. I had no wiggle room. No excuse for not getting back on time. If I tried, my babysitters would turn into mice, my golf shoes into glass slippers and our golf cart into a pumpkin.
I HAD TO CUT THE ROUND OF MY LIFE SHORT. I was close to hitting numbers I only dream of. Cinderfella was forced to leave the ball, just as it was really getting good.
Tragic? Not unless you’re me.
Funny? Absolutely! Especially for my friends. Even more so when they realize that I am now thinking that low numbers are well within my reach and that I am handsome.
Keep laughing boys. The season is young and I'm buying some self-tanner.
-JJ
