Golf: Sport Of The Loons

"Golf is a good walk wasted." -Mark Twain

The great Mr. Twain and I are in agreement.

Is it really a sport when most of the players who play it for fun have beer guts? When the only athletic activity involves taking a club and hitting a ball? The answer, of course, is no.

I've played the game a couple of times. Enough to know it's one of life's most boring pursuits. So I've developed a deep dislike of golf as time's gone on. The great Canadian columnist Arthur Black reminds us that golf spelled backwards is flog. Apt, isn't it?

Where to begin? Probably with the fact that growing up where I did, there were plenty of the accursed courses to be found. And whenever late in the summer we'd have a drought, those golf courses would still be as green as ever, even while people were being asked not to water their lawns. Oh, sure, they have their own ponds to draw on, I know that. It's the principle of the thing. As a kid, it didn't seem right.

Then there's the game itself. Played at the competitive level, for some inexplicable reason it draws big ratings. Especially where there's a philandering player with an animal for a name getting back into it after his fall from grace. Incidentally, shouldn't the story from the last Masters have been about the guy who won it, and the fact that his wife (cancer patient at that) was right there cheering him on, rather then the insincere, attention seeking sleazebag everyone was chasing around?

But I digress. I could go on about Tiger Woods all by himself. This is about golf. What is it about the game that draws ratings? Who really gives that much of a damn about it? It's really very, very dull when you get right down to it. People in really bizarre clothing hitting a ball after conferring with the caddie for endless minutes. Swearing when the ball doesn't go where they want it to. Yelling at the caddie for giving them bad advice. Going down on the nearest porn actress that catches their... oh, right, this is about golf. Not Tiger.

I hate the game. It's boring. It takes up way the hell too much space. No other sport takes up that amount of space. It's utterly pointless. But how to get rid of it? That's the question, isn't it?

I've been asked, rhetorically, what I'd do if I was the Prime Minister. I say rhetorically, because there's no way in hell I would ever go into politics. That's a matter for another time. The answer, though, is relevent here. The first thing I'd do is ban the game of golf from ever being played. Yes, a rather bold statement to make.

The problem is that the golfers would just go off to other countries. Those who couldn't would be very angry with me. So I'd have to have an army of bodyguards around me. Still, I wouldn't be satisfied with merely abolishing golf from the Great White North. I'd have to abolish it everywhere. Which, of course, is where world domination comes in.

Yes, taking over the world would have to be the next logical step. Only then, as Supreme Emperor of Humanity (you may bow), could I pass an edict declaring that anyone even thinking of playing golf will be shot on sight. Ah, yes, that sounds just about right. A world free of golf. Think about it. It sounds lovely. Lovely!

Just one problem with it. Everyone who ever tried to take over the world failed. Alexander. Genghis Khan. Napoleon. Hitler. Rosie O'Donnell. Spongebob Squarepants. All of them failed. And let's face it: running the world is just too much work.

So there's plan B. Let's change the way golf balls are made. Put some uranium in the core of the ball. Something along the lines of nuclear material. Let players buy them. In a few years, they'll be sterile. They won't have children to pass on their love of golf to. With that, in a generation, golf will die out! Wouldn't that be terrific? Can't you just see it?

Yes, we can dream. We can hope. It's not too late, you know. The golfers can be brought down. All we have to do is believe. And maybe fill in the holes on your nearest course with cement late at night.