An Open Letter to My Own Golf Pro

Dear Slice,

You know we went night-golfing last Friday, with your parents and several couples from their ward.

You were really excited about it, and I tried not to dampen the spirits. But after you got my hopes up with that whole "reservations" word, I think I had good reason to be upset.

By the end you were proud of me ... I think. I hit the ball, what? 1 out of 3 times I tried? and I had one (or two) genuinely good shots. Still, I don't think I'll be a great golfer anytime soon.

As soon as I knew I would be marrying you, Slice, visions of golf lessons started dancing in my head. Visions of you (professional-husband) teaching me (prodigy-wife); of us traveling far and wide to golf tournaments (where you would play and win lots of money); of our prodigy children growing up with the game; of many happy days spent in beautiful landscapes.

Now I'm not so sure.

After more than a year of marriage, zero husband-wife golf lessons, and more hours spent at the Course than I care to count, I made a decision. I don't really want to learn how to golf anymore.

Why, you ask?

Well, I say: I've seen too much of the BAD side of golf.

I've seen too much disrespect, harassment, profanity, blatant dishonesty, downright laziness and destruction; too many drunk, vulgar men, and too many spoiled brats with no regard for rules. NOT ENOUGH ACCOUNTABILITY.

I've seen too much of the game itself - the stress, frustration, and incredible amounts of pressure you subject yourself to, not to mention the all-pervasive gambling involved - and I guess I haven't seen enough benefits.

Slice, I know you love this game. I know you love it almost as much (maybe more, actually) than you love me.

You love the pressure of the competition, the preciseness and technicality of the swing, the exhilaration of chip shots hit out of nowhere. (You had a lot of those last time.) You love the grass and the trees and the water, the stillness of morning and the wind in afternoon.

You love teaching young kids the fundamentals, love getting their little notes and comments afterwards.

And because of that, I try. I try to learn the rules, the rhythm, the etiquette of the game. I try to understand when you come home hours later than you said you would. (!)

Most of all, I try to be there for you. I never know what to say, or do, when you've had a bad round or when yet another person has walked all over you, just like people do, all the time. I never know what club you should use next, or how fast the greens roll, or if that par-3 will actually play like a par-4. All I can do is be there for you, anytime, anywhere.

And for now, I hope that's enough.

Because I'm kind of sick of the golf course right now. Maybe we can try again next year?