Reasons to hate golf, part one.

I know why I hate golf so much.

Its because everyone has an opinion on how best to play the game, worse still, everyone has an opinion on how best YOU could play the game.

It starts with the bloke in the shop where you buy your clubs from, heres a tip from me to anyone who is thinking of taking up the game – just buy any old clubs from eBay or out of your Post Office window adverts, or even from your local tip, just get anything, it doesn’t matter what you buy because you’re already shit at the game anyway, the clubs aren’t going to make a ha’peth of difference at the moment.

I’d been playing golf for several years when I went into my local branch of American Golf (do they have “English Golf” shops there ? Why do we have “American Golf” ?), anyway I went into this branch of American Golf with our Ned and we saw a set of clubs in there that had been made famous by Vijay Singh, “Ha!” said our Ned, “Vijay Singh uses those clubs”, and they were in a sale so I said “Ha! well I shall purchase them then”.

But you can’t just pick them off the shelf and purchase them in American Golf shops, oh no, you have to have some smarmy bastard take the piss out of you in their “golf simulator” for half an hour before they’ll let you get the credit card out, “Come and try them out in our golf simulator” the smarmy bastard behind the till said, “Come with me” I said to our Ned, “and you pretend you’re buying them for yourself” because unlike me, he can play golf.

He took some practice swings in this long narrow cupboard with a TV projector down the bottom end, its supposed to look as though you’re playing golf on a proper course, think of playing golf on a Nintendo Wii, its like that, but more pretentious.

“Let me adjust the course first” said the smarmy bastard, “this one is in Hawaii, there’s a slight cross wind, a dog leg to the left and you’re aiming for that palm tree in the distance to give yourself the best run up to the green sir”, fuck off you feel like saying, these graphics are worse than my Wii on that old black and white set we’ve got in the conservatory.

So our Ned had a couple of shots and the smarmy bastard nodded and observed how good the clubs must feel, how balanced they were, what a beautiful swing you have sir, oh I say, what a good shot, and then he looked at me and said “The clubs are for you aren’t they, why don’t you have a go now?”, he must have been listening when we were looking at them in the shop, smarmy bastard.

So I stepped up onto the plinth, swung the club a few times then lined up to hit the imaginary ball and knocked it onto the fairway in Hawaii that was three fairways over to my right, so a normal shot for me then, I picked up the bag of clubs and pretended to set off to the fairway three fairways over to my right, “See you on the green” I waved to our Ned and the smarmy bastard, they didn’t think it was very funny.

“Let me see your grip again” said the smarmy bastard and I showed him, “How the hell do you manage to hold the club like that?” he asked when I’d showed him.

“I always hold the club like this” I protested and our Ned nodded his head in agreement, “He does” is all he said.

“But you’ll break your wrist holding the club like that” the smarmy bastard said and our Ned nodded his head in agreement, “I know” he said, “I’ve told him”

“I like holding the club this way” I protested but it was too late, the smarmy bastard was all over me, repositioning my hands on the club so that it felt like I was going to break my wrists and then when I took the backswing my hands slipped back into the natural position that they always took and the ball went three fairways over to the right again.

“No, no, no” the smarmy bastard said, “you moved your hands again, put them back like this” and this time I’m sure I heard one of my wrists crack and I stood there thinking, I just want to pay for the fookin clubs please.

Half an hour in the simulator, thats how long it took before he was satisfied that I was competent enough to handle Vijay Singh’s clubs, and then he let me pay £400 for them and the following week I played in a testimonial competition for a rugby player in St Helens and I nearly threw Vijay Singhs golf clubs in the lake because I played like a gibbon with arthritis and stopped scoring halfway round because there wasn’t enough room on the scorecard for my accumulation of shots.

And afterwards EVERYONE who had seen me play had an opinion on what I was doing wrong and no matter how many times I told them that I actually wanted to play like the absolute shit-est player ever, they still all had an opinion to give and weren’t shy in giving it.

THATS why I hate the game.

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