That I’m a bad listener.
I played 9 holes with some friends this weekend. We reserved two tee-times for eight folks. Three of them have never played golf before. Two of them, my old roommates, had played before but didn’t get out hardly at all.
Sounds like a disaster, right? But not in the way you think.
I was astonished at how well my former roommates played. Astonished, mostly, because I had no idea that they played golf! One of the women seriously ripped at the ball — taking divots off the fairway — beating down 200 yard drives. The other had a short game that many 15 handicappers would die for. We played a scramble and we used a good number of their shots.
I lived with them for two years and didn’t know that they play golf…and do it well. Why didn’t I ever ask?
To tell you the truth, I was so much blown away by their ability, I could hardly concentrate on the fact that my other friend, the beginner, was asking me for help.
“Just hit the ball,” I would say, like a complete asshole.
When was golf ever that simple? As just hitting the ball?
She responded with, “It seems more complicated than that.”
She’s right. But, why didn’t I help her?
The next day, I was standing on the 14th tee box on East Potomac’s Blue Course looking down at my grip — I’ve added that to my pre-shot routine — and realized, “You jerk. Start with the grip!”
Had I taken a moment to show my friend how to grip the club, it would have made a huge difference for her. It would have led to taking a stance properly, keeping her head down. THEN HIT THE BALL.
And I would have thanked my old roommates for showing my friend how to hit the ball.
Next time, if I can.