On the 10th of June my local newspaper ran a tiny blurb announcing that June is National Womens’ Golf Month. On the 10th of June. That means by the time they announced it the month was one-third over. Why didn’t they announce this on the first of June? It could have made a tremendous difference at golf courses all over the country as women decided if it was National Womens’ Golf Month, perhaps they should get out on their local golf courses and take advantage of the golf pros…no wait a minute…I mean take advantage of lessons from golf pros and enjoy some nice exercise, all the while celebrating something special for women.
Now it is the middle of the month as I finally get around to blogging about this and the month is half over. That means even more potential women golfers have failed to understand that this month is dedicated especially to them. How sad is this? Women golfers everywhere have barely a half month to stand next to the 18th hole, hoist their clubs into the air and proudly proclaim to the world, “It’s National Womens’ Golf Month, which way is the club house, I need a drink!”
I’ve played golf before – way back when I actually was in good shape and had a spine that worked properly. It’s a difficult game to play as far as I’m concerned. This observation is based on not using one of the electric golf carts, but carrying around your own clubs and playing an entire 18 holes of golf. I did it once with one other young woman and two young men and it nearly killed me. Oh I did well – it was totally beginner’s luck that I hit this stupid little white pebbled ball across a ton of green grass, without hitting any trees (or other golfers) over what I considered the world’s largest sand box and onto what I think is called the green – the place where the little hole in the ground is and there is a flag sticking out. On another hole my shot went over this big amount of water and onto the next green. I swore up and down to these young men I had never even held a real golf club, let alone played the game. They didn’t believe me, but when we finally finished and I managed to crawl back to the club house at least they were gracious enough to buy the drinks. I never played regular golf again. But I did play tons of miniature golf.
Here’s the difference between the two: In regular golf you hit the ball, try and avoid obstacles, walk your ass off, wait for some big fat guy in strange clothes to finish yelling something that sounds like Four, all the time wondering where the heck One, Two, and Three went, hit the ball, avoid the obstacles, walk your ass off, etc. etc. ad nauseum. It’s hard work, it’s rather expensive, I don’t like wearing golf shoes (they’re almost as bad as bowling shoes but that’s another blog) , and frankly it’s boring. When I played the one regular round of golf I found I hit the ball, then I had to entertain myself while everyone else in the group also hit their ball, oh you’re not allowed to talk outloud while someone else is teeing up so you sing stupid songs in your head, you count blades of grass, that kind of thing…then it’s walk, walk, walk, and you start again. Reminiscent of a basic computer program. Boring, repetitive and can lead to golfer’s tunnel syndrome which is rather like carpal tunnel but your entire arm hurts and you can’t seem to uncurl your hand.
In miniature golf you only need one golf club, there’s usually an ice cream shop not fifty feet from the game area and the holes are close together. There are little windmills and little creeks with bridges to cross. And there are only maybe 10 holes for the entire game. Most importantly, the last hole is a big old cow and you only have to hit the ball into the cow’s mouth and he moos. Now THAT’S my kind of golf. The cow moos, you go get ice cream and life is good.
I’ll bet if June was National Mens’ Golf Month the paper would have announced it at the end of May.