APRIL 24, 2020 – Recently, Minnesota Governor Walz (one of America’s great governors) cautiously modified his “stay in place” order and allowed golf courses to open—but with appropriate restrictions aimed at The Virus.
As a result, “Little Switzerland,” the hilly golf course where I hike/ski daily, is now crawling with golfers. Before the “stay put [don’t putt]” order, I hiked wherever I pleased. Now, unless I alter my routine and hike early or late in the day, I risk being pelted with golf balls. I can’t easily adjust to the notion that hordes want to golf on a . . . oh yeah; it is a golf course after all.
In rational moments I understand why golf is now a crowd sport.
First, it was a long winter—in my case 110 days’ worth of skiing, most of them up and down St. Moritz and The Eiger of “Little Switzerland.” Many people here tire of the cold, ice, and snow. When spring finally arrives, they don’t just tip-toe out of the house. They kick the door down, they leap from the window, they jump out of the basement “man cave,” they squeal out of the garage before the door is all the way up, and they race to: 1. The lake cabin “up north”; 2. The local boat launch or fishing pier; or . . . 3. The closest golf course.
Second, people need diversion from worry and acrimony. Before The Virus, televised sports filled this need. Now, with college basketball tournaments trashed, NBA and NHL playoffs off and a full fortnight into the baseball season with no baseball, what are sports fanatics to do? Exactly—play golf!
Third, these days where can a foursome of business associates—or old frat buddies—smoke cigars?
I’m not a golfer, but I’ve spent lots of time around golf (See posts from October 18 – 20). While hiking over in “Little Switzerland” I get to see all levels of proficiency in teeing off, clearing hazards, negotiating doglegs, escaping sand traps, landing on greens, and, of course, where golf is often won or lost—putting. I know the practiced golfer from the fanatic; the duffer from the casual; the pro from a friend of the pro.
Yesterday, however, I experienced a new vision of golf: golf balls as aircraft and golfers as pilots; tees as take-off runways, greens as landing strips. I’ve always been impressed by how my friend Capt. Joe Craven (ret.) could pilot a 757 from runway 12R/30L at MSP to runway 7R/25L at ANC, but I’m now gaining respect for how a proficient golfer using a set of Callaway clubs can “fly” a 1.62-ounce Titleist ball from the eighth tee to the eighth hole in four (par) strokes. Of course, the +250 golf balls I’ve recovered from “Little Switzerland” are evidence that many “pilots” have flown off the radar, their “aircraft” never to be found—until my reconnaissance flights long after the balls had rough landings—in the rough.
In all human endeavors are refinements . . . and failures . . . that inspire awe. (Fore!)
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
