While the rigors of other sports take their toll, a person’s relationship with golf can last a lifetime.
Last year, I celebrated my 50th birthday and, truth be told, this celebration of half a century of existence passed much like the previous 49 … a brief moment of recollection and then it was full steam ahead to 51.
Granted, on this occasion, there were a few more friends and family members on hand to remind me that life’s better years had passed me by – at least that’s what most of the greeting cards suggested – while other members of the greybeard society preached the wonderful virtues of a vibrant AARP lifestyle, complete with cocktails daily at 4 p.m. sharp.
But while the big picture suggests that I’m firmly on the tail end of this joyride called life, why does it seem that my golf world refuses to age?
For the record, I’ve been playing the game for more than 35 years and I have yet to reach that expected common-sense moment that tells me that my best golf years are behind me. Sorry, that thought just doesn’t cross my mind.
Put me on the golf course and I’m a kid again.
Put me on a golf course and I’m still confident I can post a sub-par round.
Put me on a golf course and age is suddenly irrelevant.
And that’s what makes golf the greatest game on earth.
Basketball? Those great days of playing three or four times a week are long gone; the knees and feet just can’t take the pounding anymore … especially since that bone fusion procedure on my big toe in 1995.
Softball? Last summer marked the 34th straight year of participating in the local men’s league. And while longevity may make good conversation, there’s no question that my defensive and offensive skills are now a liability to my team. The indignity of getting benched last summer by my 22-year-old coach drove home that message loud and clear. Ouch!
Tennis? I can still hit a mean backhand. Just don’t ask me to run all over the court chasing the ball, thank you.
Which brings me back to golf … beautiful, wonderful, ageless golf.
With the help of the newest technology (thank you, Titleist), I’m hitting the ball longer and straighter than ever. Put me up against some 20-something flat-belly and, guaranteed, I can still hold my own.
Hell, I’m confident that with a little extra practice time next year, I’ll be able to get my handicap down to an all-time low.
I think I’m going to enjoy being 50.
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