Vices

As the Coming of the Baby nears I find that I am moving my impulse for recreational vice into, yes, golf. Who would have guessed? There is a reason stereotypes exist and the Dolfing Gad must exist for a reason. Let's think about why.








Dangerous! Highly addictive!


#1 Addiction. Golf is hard. But rewarding. In that small space is the mating bed of compulsion. Golf rewards compulsive, repetitive, mindless practice and execution. Like a slot machine or blackjack table, one can sit down time after time with little success until hitting a jackpot or a good hand, or, may we all be so lucky, a streak. In golf terms this becomes playing a round and hitting that one perfect shot or putting together a string of pars (or bogeys or birdies, you know, better than your usual). It just feels so good. If this happens once, maybe you'll try to play again and not repeat your success, you never get another "hit," but maybe you do. Maybe you love getting that hit. Watching the ball fly through the air and land far, far away. Launching it from the fairway until it lands softly on the green. Then, miracle, just attempting to putt the ball close to the hole and watching and hearing, unbelievably, as the ball drops into the hole for a birdie. Once something like this happens you are hooked. It may not be fun for you as you may not reproduce it for a long, long time and like any junkie you walk around with a "jones." You jones on the practice tee trying to put a ball through the window of the poor demolition derby truck stranded, crucified by driving range balls. You jones while reading books and magazines packed with the "latest" tips. And, of course, you jones on the course as your tee shots fly off to the right ("for a right handed golfer"), your approach shots land pin high - twenty feet off the green ( add an extra shot or three for skulled chips and chili-dips), and you jones as that three foot putt that you just want to sink to get the hole over with becomes a six inch putt. Was that three putts? Or four?