I’m standing a few yards behind my teed-up golf ball on the first hole, trying to mimic that scene in The Legend of Bagger Vance – you know, the one where Bobby Jones is glaring down the fairway with deadly intensity? He clears his mind of everything except the task at hand; he visualizes the perfect golf shot. The film’s soundtrack picks-up and a wind begins to wisp as soft piano keys entrance you with a gentle arpeggiation…he’s in the field.
Setting up in that way never works for me…it’s that damn music; I can’t get it out of my head. Written by talented British composer Rachel Portman, the score immerses me into dreamy thought. The music is intensified as Junuh sets himself to hit. The melody is more than engaging; you may be sitting in your living room but somehow, you’re transposed onto the golf course. You can smell the freshly cut grass; hear birds chirping as they take flight. It’s as if you’re part of every ripple and undulation in the fairway; you feel the club become an extension of your arms; your eyes guide the ball to its soft landing in the middle of the fairway. Junuh takes his shot; the music stops; and you’re back in front of the television.
Part of my problem on the golf course is I give myself a soundtrack to play along with – in my mind I mean. I guess you can say music inspires me; it probably does for many of us. But I actually think of a song to inspire some of my golf shots. This can be a distraction – especially when the song is “I’m on a Boat” by The Lonely Island (featuring T-Pain). I’m not sure why that song inspires me, it’s a spoof rap track that’s meant to be silly, but there I am teeing-it-up on hole #15 to the lyrics: “I got my swim trunks and my flippy-floppies…” Plunk – I’ll need to get on a boat just to fish-out my tee-shot.
Without fail, someone in my foursome will drop a line from Caddyshack at the turn. So? So let’s dance! Ever try teeing-off to “Any Way You Want It” by Journey? Yeah, that’s got slice written all over it (and I NEVER slice)!
After a few holes, I finally shake the falsetto wailings of Steve Perry and settle-in on something more appropriate. Perhaps if it’s the last hole and I’m putting my final stroke of the day, I’ll think of the closing scene of The Greatest Game Ever Played…
But I usually can’t stomach more than 20 seconds of that. Inevitably, my putt will fall just short of the hole, leaving me with a “Cuban” – oh how I wish the course had a gopher problem…
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