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Sunday, 18 August 2013

My Never-never Land: Golfing Rules They Don't Publish

People often ask me why I enjoy playing golf so much. I tell them it's because I have these rules I follow, rules I try never to break, except where money is involved.

Here are the rules to follow if you want to play better and live longer.

Never play golf with a guy who keeps a tee behind his ear.
 I don't think this needs an explanation. But it's the same reason I don't smoke with a guy who keeps a cigarette behind his ear.

Never play golf with a guy who wears a hard hat, smokes Camels and carries only seven clubs in his canvas bag.
 Play this guy and he not only beats you out of $700, he sets a course record doing it.

Never play golf with a guy who carries a towel to the green.
 Adds an hour to the round.

Never play couples golf.
 Matter of fact, my fee for playing one round of couples golf has just gone up to $10,000.

Never play golf with a guy whose head covers resemble Disney characters.
 He's a gut cinch to wear shorts and anklets.

Never play golf with a guy who wears shorts and anklets.
 Unless you can beat him. It's a horrible thing, losing to shorts and anklets.

Never play golf with a guy whose nickname is stitched into his gigantic leather bag.
 Makes you think about what his wife says at the dinner table:
"Would Big Bad Buck like to pass the butter?"

Never play golf with a guy who wears more than one gold wrist bracelet.
He's got a cell phone you haven't seen yet and will make 37 calls before you reach the ninth green.

Never play golf with a guy who can't seem to find something in his golf bag before you've even teed off on No. 1.
Cancel. Plead illness. Every hole, this guy is going to be digging around, trying to find a new ball, an old ball, a tee, a pencil, a ball marker, his peanut butter sandwich, his banana, the bottle of water, his muscle relaxers. 
He'll find the shoehorn he was looking for on about the 14th hole.
It was in his left shoe. That's why he was limping.

Never play golf with a guy who has one of those bags with separate compartments for all of the irons.
Each club will have to be soaked, rinsed, dried and polished after he uses it. And it will have to be stored in the proper sequence.
A 7-iron gets in the wrong compartment, there goes a half-hour.
The guy eats nothing but tuna on whole wheat. OK, once in a while he feels adventurous and goes for the eggplant.
He's a 24 from the whites.

Never play golf with a guy who keeps personal stats.
Writes it all down.
"That's my third sand-save this week."
I believe you're on the tee, Fred. Soon as you knock out that last chapter of War and Peace.

Never play golf with a guy who keeps those little sweaters on the clubheads of his irons.
You've got head covers on your irons? Are you kidding me?
He's a first cousin of the guy with the bag that has those compartments for the irons. Also eats nothing but tuna on whole wheat.
Yo, Tuna Man! How's it going with the color-coordinated closet?

Never play golf with the guy who feels it's his personal responsibility to keep the entire course in shape.
Mr. Groundskeeper. Repairs every divot in every fairway and on every green. Searches them out. He's never met a bunker he didn't want to rake.
The book on him is, he wants every round to take six hours. Otherwise, he has to go to the mall with Doris.

Never play golf with the guy who holds an arm of his prescription sunglasses in his teeth while he writes down a score on a hole.
"Let's see. I was two in the pond, three out, four over the landfill. Then what did I do? Oh, I know. I was six short of the bridge, seven on the other side of the bridge, then . . .hmmm . . . eight by the fence, nine behind the shed, 10 over the green."
Right. On in 11 and four putts. Can we move it along?

Never play golf on Ladies' Day.
It's been known to turn a perfectly decent gentleman into a serial killer.

Never play golf with a guy who writes about the game for a living.
It could be me.

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