By John M
John M
Asheville, North Carolina
First Round
A few days before I was to be discharged from the Navy, I was wandering though the Exchange, (basically a department store, also called a Commissary in the Army) and I saw a set of Gary Player irons for $ 42.00. For some reason, I bought the irons. I didn’t play golf although I had caddied a bit at the California Golf Club where I grew up. What possessed me to buy the I will never know. My Dad was happy. He was a golfer and when I drove up to the house, almost immediately, he gave me a set of Jerry Barber laminated woods and a ratty canvas golf bag. I was happy although the next day as I was driving to Eugene, I realized he had an ulterior motive. By giving me his old stuff, he could tell my Mom with a straight face that he needed to buy some new clubs.
So, the clubs sat in my dorm closet for a couple of months until I got the urge to actually play on the first weekend that I didn’t have a race or a bunch of papers due. So off I went one Sunday morning to the Oakway golf course, a puny muni on the north side of town.
As I pulled into the parking lot, my rapier like mind saw that there were 4 cars in the whole lot. Maybe the pouring rain had something to do with it. You see, like the moron I am, I chose to play my first round of golf in November, in the pouring rain, in Eugene Oregon.
In the pro shop there were 4 elderly men there. One behind the counter, the other three sitting at a table drinking coffee. I do remember all of them giving me a strange look when I paid my greens fees and headed out the door.
The round went as you would expect-big slices, topped balls that caused huge rooster tails of water and the rare good shot. My clothes were soaked and at times I couldn’t see well because my glasses were all wet and fogged up. And….I loved it. I loved how the forged irons felt when I hit a good shot. I loved the “twack” of the woods. And, because I had the course, I loved the quiet.
When I finished, soaked and borderline hypothermic and stumbled into the pro shop, the four men were still there. I saw they were drinking whiskey. I’ll have one of those I told them. So I did and made four very good friends. I also fell in love with this crazy wonderful game.
Please tell me your story of how you came to love golf. Cheers everyone.
Great thread, guys! Love reading all of these stories. Here's mine...
My earliest memory of golf (and one of my earliest memories ever) doesn't involve me playing but I was on the course with my dad and one of his friends. I want to say I was around 5 years old and we were at Gannon Municipal Golf Course in Lynn, MA. My dad and his friend decided to take a cart that day, and I remember thinking it was the coolest thing ever. So cool in fact, that I couldn't wait for my turn to drive it. So, as soon as both my dad and his friend were out of the cart, I got behind the wheel and took off. I remember them laughing and chasing after me. Luckily I didn't get too far away and I didn't get into any trouble. My dad was cool like that.
After the cart incident, my next foray into the sport was launching golf balls with a 7-iron in my back yard toward my neighbors house. I think I was around 7 years old and was so excited with the solid strikes I was making (at least they were solid in my mind) that I had to show my dad. Yet again, he didn't lose his mind as he watched me send a ball sailing toward the neighbors but instead encouraged me to go to the field down the road next time.
My first round ever was at our local muni, Kelley Greens, in Nahant, MA. This is where I learned to play the game and absolutely where I fell in love with golf. As a kid, I spent most of my summer playing golf and then hunting for golf balls in the marsh around the course. The course had plenty of colorful characters but also plenty of kindred souls that would look after the juniors and help us along in the game. So many great memories from there.
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