No sport has more written about it than Golf. Why is that, do you suppose? Simple, really. Millions play the game with absolutely no chance of success — ever. But they doggedly refuse to give up a lost cause. They buy strap-on devices, braces, telescoping clubs, hinged clubs, weighted clubs, laser clubs, straps, hooks, hangers and dozens of other torture devices. Not satisfied, they buy videos, CDs and cassettes. They soak up Golf Channel instruction with hypnotic adoration, no less mesmerized than obedient disciples of some mystical cult. Not satisfied, they fork out $2500 for interactive instruction in Arizona or Florida, complete with physiological and psychological counseling. Not satisfied, they subscribe to slick magazines, studying stop-action photos, diagrams and anatomical charts. And finally, they read Murphy’s Golf in the Kingdom to connect with their Inner Self, searching for meaning, because they have come to understand that Golf is Life and Life is Golf. What a crock! Somebody has to blow the lid off this foolishness, tell the truth and relieve millions of deranged, misguided souls from their suffering. Golf is a game for left-brained, robotic, anal-retentive, solitary, single-dimensioned, self-absorbed — if not dull — humans. It is not a game for intelligent, well-rounded, spontaneous personalities. What millions of frustrated golfers must understand is this: you stink because you have active, creative brains. You are hopelessly inept because you are empathetic human beings. You fail and will always fail because you are engaging, giving, intelligent and aware of life all around you. By contrast, study the greatest players of all time. Pavlov’s dog was less predictable than your average pro. Rain Man was more personable. Jack, Arnie, Tiger, Annika and all the rest learned how to do one thing — swing a stick in exactly the same way, thousands of times. How pray tell, could they do this? Why, through mind-numbing, brainless, endless, repetitive practice. Alone. In the rain. In the wind. In bed. In the can. Forsaking all others and all else. And what do you and your fellow hackers do? You revile yourselves. Incredibly, you equate your golfing abilities with self-worth. You beat yourselves up for lacking the character to control your own minds and bodies. Listen to me. The next time you stand over a golf ball, and your brain is whirling {(“line up, keep still, wonder what kind of bird that is, hmmnn, my shoes are filthy, keep your spine angle, take it straight back, call Fred later, think I’m out of propane, car’s coming”) (SMASH, SH—T)}, be assured of this fact: You are the ones with superior intelligence. You are the thinkers. You have the active brains. You have the beautiful minds. You are not genetically predisposed to play a game designed for those who have the rote mentality of a Forrest Gump.
