Attempt to Make Me a Golfer No. 1: Law Firm Outing circa 1992

Right before Christmas, I was at Dick’s buying some Under Armour shirts for my mom. A man in front of me was buying a set of golf clubs for his wife. I asked him if she played. He said she wanted to learn. I was excited and worried for this woman at the same time. Nonetheless, I smiled and told him he chose a wonderful gift that she was sure to love. Hopefully she really did.

I wonder how many golf clubs are purchased for women during the holidays? I also wonder how many are actually used, or ever loved? As mentioned before, my relationship with golf was far from love at first sight. It was more like sharp-tongued Beatrice finally giving into her affections for Benedick in Shakespeare's, Much Ado About Nothing.

The first attempt to make a golfer out of me happened while I was working as a legislative paralegal in Washington, D.C. The firm had a golf outing one gorgeous summer day. If we decided to join the golfing extravaganza, we didn’t have to work that day--a rarity at any D.C. law firm. I was willing to do to just about anything to avoid the often asinine requests I received from some of the attorneys. Once, my boss asked me to spy on someone's house to see if they were actually on vacation, or if they were simply avoiding his phone calls. He gave me a client number to bill and told me I should leave the premises after about 20 minutes, because someone might call the cops. But, I digress.

I jumped at the opportunity to spend a non-vacation day outside of the office. Besides I knew exactly what to wear: My preppy red plaid shorts and a crisp white polo. Fortunately, I knew how to dress like a golfer long before I could ever play like one. I figured my colleagues wouldn't even know I had never picked up a club before. It was just golf. How hard could it be?

Our foursome consisted of a couple friends who were wonderful athletes. My attempts to make contact with a golf ball were pitiful. I couldn't hit a shot more than 10 yards in front (or to the side) of me. One playing partner kept telling me not to bend my elbows. I figured that meant both elbows. So I locked them up and hacked away at the ball like a lopsided pendulum.

We only played nine holes (thank the Lord), but I quit about half-way through and decided to drive the cart. My sense of humor carried me through the first few holes. But after achieving zero success, I became really frustrated. Quite honestly, I was a bit humiliated too. After all, I did consider myself fairly athletic.

Highlight of the day: Winning the best-dressed golfer award and having a beer on the 10th hole.

Other attempts to turn me into a golfer were equally awkward and unsuccessful. Up next..."Girlfriend Buys Me a 7-iron."