Opinion Corner: Long day on the links

Talk about it

I can’t say exactly when I lost confidence in my golf game, but it happened at some point in time Sunday.

Another triple-digit round was apparent at Hillcrest last weekend and that served as the dagger.

Golf is not an easy game and I’m beginning to have trouble realizing why people pay money to become so easily frustrated. It’s actually more of why I would ever pay money for that privilege.

I play for that one golden shot — the one that makes the other 100-plus worth something. It could be a chip-in or a long putt, maybe a drive that sails for miles, or out of the bunker and into the hole.

Frustrating as it is, my eyes still light up on par threes when even I have the ability to stick the ball next to the pin with a good shot from the tee box. Regardless of my previous failures, there’s the chance that I could have just one remarkable hole.

That’s what brings me back — the chance for redemption.

Like most sports golf is best suffered with another person, so you have somebody to track the ball down after a signature slice. The help tracking a lost shot is a frequent occurrence with me.

“Slice” is a term I interchange with “drive.” The trick for me is just aiming my “slice” so far to the left that it actually comes down in the fairway. This is easier typed than completed.

As each shot became progressively worse than the previous one on Sunday, my buddy Aaron was also suffering the same miserable fate that makes golf the most challenging sport ever invented.

When he connected Aaron hit for major distance, although I believe he had one straight drive.

This would lead a person to believe Aaron hit for power, while I struggled to play with finesse.

I think finesse is just a word people that can’t hit for power like to use.

True, golf must be played with subtlety and delicacy; it’s just that I don’t possess either of those skills on the links. I’m pretty sure I lack those skills off the course as well.

I’m the furthest thing away from being a scratch golfer. In fact I’ve often said if I had a radio show it would be called “Chipping for Bogey with Ben.” Then the three putting begins once I manage to find the green.

Maybe it’s because I don’t play often enough, but undergoing 18 holes of self-inflicted torture is demanding enough on a person.

Yes it was nice to turn the cell phone off and focus my skills solely on golf for an afternoon. But the enjoyment factor faded quicker than my punch-cut-drop-hook-pitch-fade — that one has some serious fade.

So for those of you who are still reading this, some encouragement would be nice next time you see me off the course hanging my head because the ball could defy physics like it just did.

Some time on the range is probably overdue but I might be too far gone for any chance at a full recovery.

If you happen to see my patched shorts and straw hat on the course just remember “There goes Ben Rodgers, the worst golfer who ever played the game.”

Ben Rodgers is a news writer at the Sun and frequent contributor to the Opinion Corner

Tags: sports, golf