From one end of the course to the other, he wanted to trek Chip shot after chip shot. (He loved to ‘peck’). His shirt was drenched. Sweat poured down his neck. ”All part of the game,” he reasoned. “What the heck!”
He was ‘friends’ with all of ‘them’. (Knew every ‘wood’). As long as the ball went in the hole, he considered them good. He felt so cool. (“Maybe I should wear a hood?!”) But he also knew the rules. (“If only I could!”)
To peace and serenity, he saw golf as the ‘door.’ He wanted to tap into ‘Master Golfer’ lore. Wanted to explore this game to it’s core Subtract golf from his life? (He’d feel so poor!)
Golf is what he loved…it was his niche. But the game, was clearly, the one to ‘teach’. And his grasp, definitely exceeded his reach Dozens of bogeys turned his face ghostly white. (Like it had been bleached!)
Fortunately, he’s always been a persistent bloke. Even if his golf game ‘loudly croaked’! Sometimes, in self-pity, he would soak
The but_ of all his opponents jokes.