A Summer Afternoon

The summer months are rough for construction people. It’s like tax season for accountants, I guess. 

Too busy.

There’s a tendency to want to sneak out on Friday to play a round of golf, and I start each week thinking I might go for it…

…then don’t.

This week, around noon, with the plan still in mind, I got a call about a guy who got hurt. Called my buddy and told him that teeing off didn’t look good, but he pushed it.

“Let’s go at 2:00.”

We didn’t have a tee time. Yet, on my way home from the job, I got an irritating email.

“F*** it!”

We got to the course and tried to bribe the starter. Then we noticed two kids on the tee.

“You mind if we join?”

The kids were hesitant as they told us that they were horrible golfers. We assured them that we didn’t care.

Then I watched a kid who is my son’s age hit a ball that traveled about 40 feet.

“Try again,” I said.

The worst thing a golfer wants on the tee is advice, but this kid was in serious trouble. I pulled him aside.

“Here’s the thing,” I said. “You need to hit THE BALL when you swing.”

He laughed.

I taught him how to tee it - even giving him some of my tees - and had him pick a spot on the ball to aim for.

I had little hope as he tried it, but he swung and the ball went about 120 yards.

He was thrilled!

“I never hit one in the air before!”

The round went on like that and we really enjoyed playing with the kids who were in awe at two “old” dudes who could hit it 250 yards.

“Look at the flexibility they have in their swings,” my buddy said. “We look like creaking basement doors when we swing.”

“Yeah, but we’re destroying them,” I said.

The thing I love about golf is that when I’m playing a round I don’t have a single other thought. Absolutely nothing else matters. All that exists in the world is the attempt at getting the ball from the tee to the hole.

Then it happened.

On hole 15.

I swung and hit a decent drive but I felt a grab and then a tremendous flash of pain in my low back.

One of the kids looked at me.

“Oh no,” I said. 

The kid was concerned and looked as if he had zero concept of what physical pain could possibly feel like.

I groaned in pain on every shot, and knew that the next couple of days were going to be rough. But I finished, and the last drive of the day was an absolute bomb.

“How’d you hit it that far in so much pain?” The kid asked.

“I hit THE BALL!” I said. “Keep your head down!”

We laughed all day, and as I headed for home, Kathy texted, asking for my score. She likes to guess, and she got it right.

When I walked in the house she just looked at me as I limped to the heating pad.

“Was it worth it?”

“Absolutely.”