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It's on us to teach golf to youngsters... — Teaching golf shouldn’t only be about scoring low…

I don’t know about you, but I hate that guy who lives vicariously through his kid. You know the guy…he’s relentlessly pushing his kid to do something that he never did or never could do back when he had his chance. He played baseball in high school so his kid has no choice but to play also. And not just play, but play better than he did. The kid could throw a two-hit shutout and strike out fifteen batters, but all his father can say to him is, “What happened? How did you give up those two hits?”

This is the type of parent who is convinced that his son, if pushed hard enough, is the second coming of Cy Young. He’s the type of guy who helps you to understand why there are fights between little league coaches and parents. You just want to say to him “Hey buddy, you’re kid’s not the next Ted Williams. But he’s going to be the next Ted Bundy if you don’t let up on him a little!”

Being a big sports fan myself, I was excited when my boys started showing interest in competitive sports. We started with basketball, moved on to football, they both seemed to have ignored baseball for some reason, and are now back to basketball, at which they both seem to excel. I don’t push them hard and I don’t expect perfection. But I do expect them to try hard, listen to their coaches and show good sportsmanship. I keep in mind they are kids, and I let them be kids. And now my oldest (11 years) has shown an interest in golf.

For most of my life I lived within a couple minutes of a golf course, but I was never very interested in the game. It may have been because my father didn’t play. It may have been because I was interested in faster-paced, contact sports and golf was just too slow. Whatever the reason, golf just didn’t interest me. It wasn’t until I was in my mid- to late-twenties that my golf-playing buddies finally convinced me to give the game a chance, and I’m glad they did. I only wish I had started sooner. So a few months before his eleventh birthday, my oldest son was telling friends and family he wanted money in lieu of presents. He was planning on using the money to purchase his own set of golf clubs….which he did late in the summer.

It was a bit too late in the golf season here in the northeast to give him enough practice time to get him out on a course right away. But that didn’t deter my excitement, or his. We have spent plenty of time just working on his swing. We’ve spent a good amount of time at the local driving range. I’m sure by now he’s sick of hearing me tell him everything he’s doing wrong. But I try to explain to him there are so many things involved in a swing that so many things can go wrong. He gets frustrated because he is pretty athletic and he expects to get it right. But at the same time, he understands that it takes a lot of practice. I’m proud of him because, at this age, I know how I would have reacted at this point – I would have dropped the clubs and picked up a basketball. But to his credit, he hasn’t done that. He’s trying and he’s trying hard.

With the off-season just about upon us, I’m hoping to keep his interest throughout until the spring comes around again. There’s a pretty nice indoor facility where my buddies and I will head a couple times throughout the winter. I’m looking forward to taking him there and he’s looking forward to going. Granted, I had to mention the several golf simulators in the facility…but like I said, I want him to hold interest until the spring. If it takes a giant video game to help do that, then so be it.

I’m glad to see him starting early. I’m glad to see him trying hard. But most of all, I’m glad that he’s showing the interest to begin with. I’m happy to watch him hit a perfectly straight shot, and even happier to see his smile afterward. And in a strange way, I’m glad to see his reaction when he screws up his next one. It tells me that he’s taking it seriously and he’s serious about getting it right.

But I’ll tell you one thing I’m not too happy about…at this early start, one day soon he’s going kick my butt up and down the fairway. Then maybe I’ll wish he stuck to the other sports!

By definition, a golf driving range is a practice facility usually consisting of an area to drive/lob/chip balls at various targets denoting distances in order to get an idea of what each club is capable of doing. It is a place to work on consistency, accuracy and “proper” form. The driving range has also been used as a place for dates (that’s pretty sad actually), child activities and various other recreational stress relievers by golfers and non-golfers alike.

My time at the range is initially spent in frustration. I get my token, put it in the ball machine and for the life of me can never seem to get the right size bucket. All of a sudden there’s balls going all over the place and I’m chasing them down like an idiot. You know, ducking backswings and the inevitable; having to look like a squeaking cheap bastard because one them rolled near someone else’s stash and when you go over to pick it up it looks like you’re stealing a ball. Obviously, a confrontation ensues and it turns into a friggin Seinfeld episode because you have to explain yourself. All of this over a range ball.

When I finally get to an open driving bay, I have a nervous breakdown trying to find the right tee…those big, stupid rubber tees! I have better luck finding a four leaf clover than finding one the right length. It’s like I either need Huggy Bear’s platform shoes or I’m driving from the mat. Well, I fixed their asses…I grabbed the longest one I could find, cut it to size and took it with me (I sure showed them).

Now as with any public place, there are a variety of people and a variety of stereotypes to go along with them. There’s the guy that dresses like he’s on tour – has the real nice expensive bag with all the fixins’ and exaggerates his nice swing so everybody sees him and oooh’s and aaah’s. There’s the guy that brings all of his clubs but only uses the driver. And then there’s the guy that should have a sock in his mouth because his cursing and swearing upsets everyone.

I also crack-up whenever I see people at the range who insist they are good, but slice so much they should be an Iron Chef. Sometimes you can hear them talking to themselves (in a looney bin kind of way). And once, I could of swore I heard “I’ll never make it in Q school.” It’s safe to say the only tour that guy will be making is the Culture Club re-union.

Now, as much as I would love to improve my game and be consistent with my irons and all that other jazz, I thoroughly enjoy driving balls at the ball retriever vehicle thingy. Especially when I’m in the company of a like-minded friend or fellow range neighbor. The fun really begins when the betting starts: “Five bucks if you hit the cart…$50 if you somehow hit the driver…” We all know that the cart is wrapped in golf ball armor and it is virtually impossible to pose any threat to the driver but, we still try (I know, we’re sadistic bastards). It should be noted that some behavioral psychiatrists believe that we have a natural morbid curiosity with seeing death, trauma/gore or just all around destruction. Since we are somewhat civil and haven’t been raised by wolves or apes, we tend to control that curiosity…or not.

Anyway, as my last ball careens toward the ball-retriever cart, I’m left wondering about the people who only know golf by what they see and do at the driving range. You know, those people who have never set foot on a golf course but still think the range is “fun.” Sometimes I envy them – their idea of golf is far less complicated than mine. It’s much easier to hit mindlessly at the range cart guy than aim for the pin. Hmmmm. do you think the MOFOBETE snack cart should have a giant target in it’s roof? Better yet…where’s the ranger’s cart?!?

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