Despite Wednesday's forecasted thunderstorms props to the Sun God, they never came it was time for my first round of golf of the spring.
Before I recount the events of a common Dartmouth College spring day, let me first explain my views on golf it is from the Animal House school of thought. More specifically, golf is not work it is a game. In keeping with my noner attitude, I am not a golfer. I am a former athlete who just happens to occasionally play golf on a semi-nice spring day.
Anyone who has seen "Happy Gilmore" (1996) knows the reference I just made. Happy, the hockey player, sees himself as a hockey player first, golfer ... well, not second last. When you are not doing too well on the course, you tend to quote golfing movies to take your mind off of how badly you are actually doing.
For example, if the aforementioned thunder had actually come, I immediately would have quoted Judge Smails from "Caddyshack" (1980), saying, "The good lord wouldn't ruin the best round of my life." But it didn't, so I couldn't quite count that one.
Okay, onto the day. If you have played golf before, you know the feeling on the first tee when you are about to hit your first drive of the day. In this case, the first drive of the season. It is kind of like you have to walk to the podium or stage to give a talk to a bunch of people and are just saying to yourself, "Don't trip, don't trip, don't trip."
Well, I tripped. Let's just say the ball didn't quite go backwards, but it almost did. It's OK, though. I took a mulligan and it worked out fine.
By the time I got to the third hole, I had sufficiently established myself to my friends as the golfer I am I can hit some good shots here and there, but I don't play enough to be consistent. But the third hole of the course is always something that drives me nuts.
People flat out run across the course. Yes, I know the golf course is a nice open field, but you don't realize people are hitting small, hard objects as hard as they can? Don't you realize that players like me are hitting small, hard objects that are most certainly not going where they want them to go? The worst part is that the runners act as if they are oblivious to people on the course. You are in danger, people. I do not control where the ball goes.
On the sixth or seventh hole, something truly incredible happened. Someone hit their ball into the water, and a gator snatched it up. My friend proceeded to wrestle the gator for the ball and realized it was the same one-eyed gator who took his golf teacher's hand wait wait wait, that's "Happy Gilmore." It didn't actually happen to me.
Sorry, but that definitely would have made things a little more exciting. It actually was just a moose, nothing too crazy.
After a long nine of shanking balls and hitting runners, you are bound to need some refreshments. Going to the Co-op at the turn is key when taking advantage of nice weather. With fresh sandwiches and Gatorade, golf is secondary.
Now something special actually happened this round other than the V-shaped golfer tan I managed to get after being out in the sun for only a few hours. We were standing on the 13th tee box when one of my friends turned around and said, "Hey, that guy might get a hole-in-one."
I turned around just in time to see a yellow golf ball drop into the hole. The funny thing is that the guy didn't even know it. He probably figured he just hit a good shot. That is until all of us starting jumping up and down yelling it's a rare thing in golf to see a hole-in-one, after all. That's one of the many reasons why spring beats winter. Things happen.
Now for my final story of the day. When you finally get to the 18th hole on Hanover's course, you are required to either hit a draw, i.e. be good enough at golf to shape your shot, or just hit it as hard as you can, play it up the wrong fairway and hope for the best. Clearly, I always choose the latter option.
And, to my surprise, it actually worked. I had about a four-foot putt for par. Then I realized something. I was one down in "Happy Gilmore" contextual quotes. This was a golden opportunity to miss the putt and yell at the ball to "get in its home," just like Happy.
Well, I missed the putt. The sad part was that I actually tried for the par and just missed. I did take the opportunity to score the point, though. At least I didn't pick up the flag stick and chuck it at someone (the next Gilmore step). That'd be worth at least six points more than I needed.
But hey, that's the way I look at spring at Dartmouth. I took what the golf course gave me and made the most of it.
Whether you golf, sit on the green, just sit in your room or go for a run on a golf course, it is actually getting nice in Hanover so get out and enjoy it and take the day where it leads you. So what if you miss the putt?
