Dear Golf

Let me tell you a story.

I’m done. Too much of my own blood, sweat, tears (mostly tears), and money have been put into this. It just might not be for me… I think it’s time to pack up my clubs and stop playing the sport of golf. 

I can remember where it all started. I live next to a municipal course in Austin and a couple of my roommates were going out to play.

“Hey Abhi, come out and play with us, you can borrow our clubs.”

I wish it never happened. I wish it wasn’t a beautiful day in Austin. I wish I didn’t play well.

Friend #1 split the fairway. Friend #2 topped a drive but it rolled out to where he could recover. After seeing Friend #2 screw up, I started to feel a little more loose. The stress of not being able to hang with these guys began to melt away. "This is your first time playing", I reminded myself. 

I lined up the driver, stared down the flag, adjusted my grip, and swung. Oh my god. I felt the power of God almighty in that moment. The definition of a Fairway Finder. A sneaky ok slice no more than 210.

I had found a new religion.

I would, from that day forward, worship at the church of golf. The father, Jack Nicklaus. The Son, Tiger Woods, and the Holy Spirit, Arnold Palmer (RIP).

I’ve played at least a round every weekend since that day. I was fiscally responsible enough to find a great set of clubs on craigslist and fiscally irresponsible enough to develop an addiction. I began listening to my friend’s tips and made regular trips to the course to put these practices into action. I thought this would improve my game, help me repeat that first high I first felt that fateful day. But no matter how many hours I spent or dollars I wasted, I still can't seem to get any better at this stupid hit-the-small-ball-in-the-small-hole game. 

Sure, I know it’s a game of patience. Shut up, Abhi. But who likes being patient? You are telling me that after spending $40+ a round shooting 105 all the time I should just accept it? Absolute loser mentality. 

I think the most frustrating thing about golf is that if you have a great round, it sucks you back in. You forget the past, you block out the old mistakes, and you convince yourself that a corner has been turned. Wrong. It hasn’t. The next time you're back out there you find yourself right back at the bottom, slicing every ball until you want to break the club you are holding. 

I don’t have anger issues. I keep my cool in any situation. But I swear, every time I hit a bad shot, I want to commit a misdemeanor. I know it’s not good for my mental health, or my wallet, but I still accept any invitation to go out and play. 

Why? I still don’t know. There is just something about the game that makes it so much fun. The highs are so high, but the lows are so low. I know I sound dramatic. I know it’s just a game. But the competitive fire that burns inside me has never wanted to be better at something more in my life. Plus a day out with the boys is a day well spent.

To double down here, now I’m reeled into watching golf. “Who wants to watch some dudes hit a ball for like 6 hours” I used to think.

Sure, a putt can be cool to watch live but there isn’t that much action compared to basketball or football.

Then I played golf for a year.

I totally get it. It’s insane to see how good people can be and carding birdies and eagles consistently is just another day on the job for them. I want to do that. I would do awful, awful things to be able to do that.

I know I won’t be able to do any of that anytime soon. I know that I have to stick with the sport and it will eventually pay off. Maybe I shouldn’t quit just yet. 

Writing this blog got me thinking about two things. One, it was therapeutic. A release I needed. And two, Kobe’s love poem to basketball. So, I decided to change some words around and make it about my “love” for golf. No disrespect, Kobe. 

Make sure to spam Will’s dm’s about playing with me. 

Until next time,

Abhi

Dear Golf (Dear Basketball Parody)

Dear Golf,

From the moment

I borrowed one of my friend’s clubs

And topped a ball onto the fairway

In the muny courses I live near

I knew one thing was real:

You were going to suck.

A pain so deep 

I wanted to get better —

From my mind & body

To my spirit & soul.

As a 21-year-old guy

Deeply trying to figure you out

I never saw the end of the tunnel.

I only saw myself

Driving out of one.

And so I drove.

I drove up and down every course

After every sliced ball for you.

You asked for my hustle

I gave you my swing

Because it looked pretty good.

I played through the sweat and hurt

Not because challenge called me

But because YOU called me.

I did everything for YOU

Because that’s what you do

When someone makes you feel as

Alive as you’ve made me feel.

You never gave a 21-year-old guy his dream to get on tour

And I’ll always be disappointed with you for it.

But I can’t love you obsessively for much longer.

My bank account is not what it used to be.

My heart can’t take the pounding

My mind can’t handle the grind

My savings knows it’s time to say goodbye.

And that’s OK.

I might be ready to let you go.

I want you to know now

So we both can savor every moment we have together.

The good and the bad.

We have given each other

All that we have.

And we both know, no matter what I do next

I’ll always be that guy

With the golf club

Standing in the middle of the office

Some co-workers around me

Club in my hands.

“Yeah, I am pretty good”

Love you always,

Abhi