Yes. Yes, I am.
Have you ever asked yourself: How stupid are you?
If you have, welcome my people, you have found your tribe.
If you haven’t, well, stop reading, or you may ask yourself that question within the next few sentences.
If I had to honestly assess my intelligence, I would admit that I think I’m relatively smart. I am confident that there are others dumber than me. Just read the comments section on anything on the internet.
Wisdom is knowledge plus experience. One without the other is kind of worthless. You can read every book out there on heart surgery, but I would not want you carving up my thoracic region if you had never picked up a scalpel. I have no desire to be one of the test subjects of the other extreme, the quack who decided he would figure it out as he goes.
Golf makes me question my lack of brain power. Consistently. I am just not good at it. I have my days where I play well for my skill level, but it can just as quickly evaporate, sometimes mid-round, sometimes mid-swing! I have poured thousands of hours of practice (I can’t say that word without automatically hearing Allen Iverson in my head, if that makes sense to you, you’re an old sports nerd) and thousands of dollars into lessons and devices that are guaranteed to help me figure out why I suck so very, very much.
And yet, here we are.
Jogging is my exercise of choice. I’ve been doing it a long time, and I have achieved a certain level of proficiency over the years. Yes, I have slowed down, and no, I can’t run as long as I used to. But I still get out there and can go for more miles than you might think because I have trained my body to do it. I’ve gotten better at it over the years.
“Dad, as much as you play, I just thought you would be better”. That dagger was thrown at me by my son. No, it didn’t make me mad; in fact, we both burst out laughing. I appreciate a well-timed and well-thought-out put-down, and that was such a backhanded compliment that it made me proud that some of my genes were passed on. But he nailed it.
In my last round, I played with three wonderful gentlemen. They were 86, 85, and 83 years old. At least twenty years older than me. And they played circles around me. In fact, I was playing so badly that I excused myself and ended the round after just six holes. They tried to encourage me, but I told them that I was old enough to know when things are broken and not going to get better. There’s that wisdom thing we talked about earlier. I had both knowledge and experience with my game.
That begs the question: Why do I keep doing it? Yes, it is fun when you play well; in fact, it’s a great game when you just don’t suck out loud. Some of my most cherished rounds were when I felt like I was just playing, not necessarily scoring well, but still playing golf. The truth is, those are few and far between. I walked off the course that day and said to myself, “Listen, buddy, we really need to apply some intelligence to this situation. I could spend the time I dedicate to golf and pour that into running, or writing, or learning to knit, and that would give me tangible results. All this has done is create this imaginary conversation that I’m having right now”. I then rolled my eyes at myself, cause I’ve heard this spiel before.
My friend Mike is really intelligent. He plays golf maybe twice a year, and it’s in charity tournaments. It’s just so he can donate to the charities he believes in and throw a few dollars at the live auction. Same with my friend Greg. Steve. Tim. All brilliant men who keep golf at a distance, like the food at the Texas State Fair. We’ve all seen it, and yeah, we might enjoy trying it, but we also know that if that were our diet, we’d be dead in a week. See, that’s smart!
In my own home, my wife plays maybe once every 2-3 years. And is never frustrated by it. My son Luke plays about 7-8 times a year, and when the game falls apart, he grabs a hot dog and watches me play. My other son only picks up a club when his friends have a party at Top Golf. Brilliant.
Can you sense that I’m facing an intelligence test right now? That’s all golf is: an IQ test that we all fail. Sigh, I’d better get my clubs in the car; I can hit a few balls before the rain comes. What a doofus.