I never thought I would have to do this. I never thought I would have to defend the name of golf against one of our own. It’s like having to defend a beautiful sunset, a great slice of pizza or an ice cold beer.
But after GetMossed released a blasphemous take on golf yesterday, this is what I have to do.
Now, I take some responsibility in this ordeal. GetMossed was an intern of mine at Toledo for a semester, maybe a year. She was the best. But, just when you think you know someone, they attack the sanctity of golf. I should have caught on to this hatred. That’s on me.
To start this off, I’m on Team Fiancé Dylan. I’ve never met the man, but I support him 100%. Hit it straight off the tee, attack the pin when hole location allows it and avoid three puts. Good luck comrade. We’re all behind you.
Oh, and a 73 (+1) at Bedford Hills Golf Club? Ok kid!! That’s big time!!
See what just happened? I’ve never met the guy and now were best friends. All because of golf. Matter of fact, we should get a tee time on Sunday.
On to the issue at hand. I’ll break it down paragraph by paragraph with excerpts from the original blog. Overkill? Probably. But I’ve got time today. Also, I’m going to make many generalizations. Many. Generalizations.
“This ain’t no hobby.” No honey, that is exactly what this is.
“I hear God best on the golf source.” Well, that’s funny, because you sure don’t hear your phone ringing when I call.
I hate golf and I’m not afraid to admit it.
I believe the first quote is in reference to the great Kevin Kisner. Kisner famously said the phrase as he raked in just under $16 million in career earnings. Not a hobby for Kiz, and not a hobby for many others. Hobbies include reading, or knitting, or sewing, or art. Golf is a way of life; a physical science for the intellectual man.
The second quote: prove him wrong. I believe it. I know God hears me best when I’m on the golf course. I’ve gone on more expletive-laced tirades that start with Goddammit than I care to admit. It’s good to hear God, but also be heard by God when a 10-foot par putt lips out. Know what I’m sayin’?
And he ABSOLUTELY hears his phone ringing. But his phone is playing ‘Sweet Home Alabama‘ at max volume, he just pushed his drive wide right into the rough, he’s got a downhill lie, 170 yards to the front edge, if he leaves it short its wet, bunkers long and to the right and a downhill putt of death if he misses to the left. So, yup, that call is going to voicemail. A text at the next tee box will suffice.
I don’t hate it in the sense that I’m bad at it or think it’s boring. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty athletic. I can hit the ball reasonably well. No, I hate it because Golf is the new Call of Duty. It’s just another excuse for our men to act immature. I hate golf because out of the last 9 summers I have been with my fiance Dylan, golf has consumed the last five of them.
Woah, ricochet shot on Call of Duty. Call of Duty is a staple in American culture. Baseball, apple pie, Chevrolet and COD. And easy with the immaturity. Golf is the most mature sport there is. Look at the legends like John Daly, Dustin Johnson and Tiger Wo….. nah, yea good point about the immaturity.
When guys grow up most of them play sports. Tee ball, Pop Warner football, little kids basketball on the 8-foot rims. Something. And everybody has the moment when the sport tells them that they can’t play anymore. Vince Carter retired at 43 years old. I retired at 20. Johnny Jumpshot may have retired at 10. You can golf with your friends forever. It’s awesome. And shoutout to Fiancé Dylan almost breaking par after only playing for five years. Beast.
Friday date night? No such thing. Golf league starts at 4:30. That’s fine, we’ll go on a date Saturday. HAH. Unheard of. Saturdays are reserved for outings. Sunday brunch? Those plans don’t stand a chance against an 8am tee time.
I see no problem here. If he’s playing too much golf before the wedding, ya’ll better strap in for the next 60 years. Next paragraph.
But surely when we go up north for vacation I can catch a break and spend some quality time with my family and my man. Think again! My cousin Bake n’ Take will be stepping over my head at 6 AM trying to find Dylan for their 7:03 tee time.
Are we talking ‘up north’ as in Northern Michigan. OMG, that some of the most beautiful, scenic golf in the country. That’s just a golf trip that you were so lucky enough to go on. And there’s our foursome. I’m confident that Fiancé Dylan, Cousin Bake, Cousin Take and I would have an absolute blast making our way through a cooler of beer.
I don’t even want to get into how much money has gone to golf over the years. If betting wasn’t a thing, I think we’d have all our wedding expenses paid off by now. And if I had a dollar for every time I had to pick up Dylan and his drunk friends, I could probably afford a new car. Currently, I’m driving a rusted out 2002 Chevy Silverado with a newly missing tail light (oops sorry Darrell).
If you’re a member somewhere, you pay a flat fee for the year. After that you gotta get your money’s worth, right?. It’s like a buffet. Go back for seconds, thirds, and take down the house when you go back for fourths.
Drunk driving is dangerous and OVI’s are expensive. Big ups to Fiancé Dylan and the drunk friends for getting home safe. Also, I really like Tony Finau at +5000 to win the Tour Championship. Maybe sprinkle a little on Kevin Na at +40000. (All odds via Thomas Shelby Sportsbook)
One time I was even conned into buying Dylan a new putter – he claimed it would up his game and he’d spend less time on the golf course. I think it made him worse seeing as he’s spent more time at Sandy Creek this summer than at work. Although he did golf one over par – 73 – at Bedford Hills Golf Club (he told me he’d call off the wedding if I didn’t include that in the blog).
A relationship with a putter is like a marriage. I’d say it’s even more important. Tiger Woods got a divorce in 2010, but he’ll always have that red-dotted Scotty Cameron by his side. The Scotty Cameron has had a hand in Tiger winning $120 million in prize money. His ex-wife took him for $110 million. You tell me which is the better investment.
And you know what else drives me crazy about golf? You can never just play for fun. If I shoot a 9 on a par 4, so what? I’m not trying to be the next Tiger Woods or Phil Mickelson. And let’s be real, you can try but none of you will look as good as Rory or Brooks on a Sunday afternoon. If I want to slam 10 White Claws and leave my 5 iron on the eighth hole, don’t yell at me or tell me I’m embarrassing. As I said, it’s just a hobby and we’re playing for FUN.
Let’s be real, if we had a shot at Jena Sims or Erica Stoll we might look more like Brooks or Rory. But we don’t, so we don’t. And nobody leaves a 5-iron on a hole. 9-iron? Maybe. Gap wedge, pitching wedge, sand wedge? Absolutely.
Instead we look more like ‘Beef’ Johnston, or Miguel Angel Jimenez.
But also, who in their right fucking mind golfs 36holes in one day? I can barely make it through 9 holes at Old Town’s par 3 course. Tell me that doesn’t sound crazy. The ONE good thing to come out of golf in the last five years is Dylan’s wardrobe is finally upping its’ game.
36 holes is the perfect amount of golf for one day. Get up early and get to the range. Hit a few balls as the rest of your crew stumbles in hungover. Tee off for the first round around 7:00. Finish the round in time for lunch. Smash a sandwich. Back to the range to fix a few things that went wrong in the first round. Tee off for the second round around 1:00. Finish in time for dinner. Get drunk(er) with the boys and talk about your best shots.
Every year I go on a golf trip and we play 36 holes on Friday and 36 holes on Saturday, with options to play 18 on Thursday and Sunday. The more the merrier.
Ladies, Fall is upon us. It’s time to take back our weekends and drag our men to the cider mill.
That’s all. Rant over.
“Nah, it’s gonna be a hard pass on the cider mill babe. I just shot 73 (+1) at Bedford Hills and I really feel like I can break par today.” -Fiancé Dylan
Golf is the one activity that men can get away with. Guys, if you don’t golf, start golfing. If you do golf, golf more. Now, I don’t do the whole girlfriend / fiancé / wife thing in the traditional sense of the words. But, imagine going up to your GFW and saying ‘Hey, I’m going on a four-day bender with the boys to get shit ripped drunk and see what debauchery we can get into.’ The answer would be ‘absolutely fucking not.’ Now imagine saying ‘Hey, I’m going on a golf trip with some friends to relax and decompress.’ Much different response.
When a guy is on a golf course, it’s just him, his boys and a good time. You know he’s not at Tops and Bottoms Gentlemen’s Club with his face between Krystle’s cans (RIP to Tops and Bottoms, RIP to Krystle). You know he’s not getting hit on by Crazy Tiffany out at a bar during Katie’s bachelorette party. He’s just having a few beers and making double bogey on a long par 3.
That’s all. Rant over.