What is it about golf? I just

don't get it. I realize that I live in the midst of a golfer's

paradise and that this is that land of innumerable golf carts. Even the

local police department has a golf cart for patrolling the miles and miles

of cart paths. Heck, you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a

golf course around these parts. At the considerable risk of alienating

golfers everywhere, I still have to ask, "Hey, what's the deal?"

I grew up in east Tennessee where the dominate high school sport was football.

If you waited until Friday night to but a ticket to seek the Dobyns-Bennett

Indians play their brand of championship ball, you might just be out of

luck. Second on the list was basketball. I'm told that the DBHS domed

gym would seat 5,000 screaming fans and, especially during the playoffs,

it would be standing room only. Baseball and track and field were probably

tied for third and, after that, one would find what we called "the

minor sports." Except that no one really considered golf a sport.

Unless you thought of chess as a sport. Golf was more of a "past

time," played by people who couldn't play football, basketball,

baseball, or run track. DBHS had a golf team but, for the life of me,

I can't ever remember anybody saying, "Wow! Did you catch the

big golf match last week?" We were all too busy talking about football,

basketball, baseball, or track. Or chess.

Still, I played my first and only round of golf back in August 1971 when

I was stationed at Camp LeJeune, NC. A couple of other Marines and I decided

to take a Saturday and give the game a try. We were joined by a fourth

Marine who actually played golf and agreed to explain the game and give

us some pointers. Four hours of trying to knock a little white ball into

a cup was enough. We all agreed that, if were going to spend four hours

in the hot sun on a Saturday afternoon, we should go to the beach where

there were young girls in bikinis. Nobody wore a bikini on a golf course.

Sand, surf, and girls were exciting and held the promise of adventure.

Golf was-well-boring. And it took a long time. In an hour, we

could play between ten and twenty games of pool. The competition was fierce

and a win/loss record could be established. In an hour's worth of

golf you could be assured of being bored. With three hours of the same

to follow.

Okay, admittedly, we weren't very good. I think I shot a 90 on the

first nine holes. Pitiful. But when I first began to study karate, I wasn't

good at that either but at least it was exciting.

Maybe that's it. Golf needs to be more exciting. I mean, how exciting

is it to watch a guy (or gal) bend over a golf club for five long minutes,

planting and shifting his feet back and forth, looking at the ball and

then the green over and over as, all the while, the announcer whispers

into the microphone the alleged "play-by-play." "John Jones

bends over the ball," the announcer barely whispers. "He grips

his driver and looks down the fairway. He looks at the ball...shifts

a bit...looks again down the fairway...back at the ball...down

the fairway..." Good grief, hit the thing already! And even if

the drives the ball far and long into a hole-in-one, do you think the

crowd cheers? Nooooo, they politely and quietly clap. No high fives, no

painted faces, no exposed beer bellies, no high-kicking cheerleaders with

perfect bodies and exposed tummies, no bands, no dousing the victor in

gallons of Gatorade, no fights in the dugout...just the quiet pitter-patter

of nearly silent applause.

Yet, millions are affected, nay addicted, by this drug called "golf."

True golfers won't go on vacation unless they can house themselves

near a gold course. Even NASCAR fans can take a trip and not go near a

race track for at least one week out of the year. How many pool players

do you know that take their cue sticks on vacation? How many fishermen

take their rods and tackle? How many hunters take their thirty-ought-six

with them to Disney World? But golfers will load up the clubs and somehow

pack them in the trunk or stow them in the cargo hold of an airplane,

believing that if they can't play a round of golf, their vacation

is a monumental waste of time. And golfers-true believers, anyway-must

show off their new drivers and putters. Bill says, "Hey, Bob look

at this Mark Victor super-titanium, blended steel-copper alloy, with the

ivory inlay, and the textured grip." To while Bob replies, "Bill,

please, we're in church and the pastor is preaching. Put the club

away till after services. People are staring"

But, I have to admit that watching golf on television is a real treat.

After church on Sunday, I can go home, turn on the set, tune in a golf

match, settle in my Lazy Boy and-BAM-asleep in three minutes.

Try doing that with football, basketball, baseball, or track. Or chess.

David Epps is Rector of Christ the King Church

between Newnan and Peachtree City. He may be contacted at

[email protected]