For the Love of the Game

I meet one of my playing partners for the round: a tall, bearded man, we’ll call Justin. Seemingly in his mid-thirties with a genial personality, I came to learn that Justin and I went to the same college, sixteen years apart. Justin mentions meeting a fellow graduate of our college on the range at PGA West back around Thanksgiving. That player is my current roommate and close friend. What a strange, small world. Justin sends his drive down the hill, settling in the middle of the fairway—a proper golf shot.

The next player up, who we’ll call Greg, came to be the subject of this story. Average in stature, with a slightly rounded beer gut that seems to inevitably appear once a fella hits 40, and is decked out in Under Armour golf apparel. Greg is noticeably nervous, feverishly mumbling to himself as he tees up his ball. With a strong grip, an equally strong forward press, and a swing that harkened to that of Charles Barkley when he was featured on the Haney Project, Greg is set. 

Greg lifts up the driver high in the air and lashes at the ball. Thwack!