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Because it's there.
Because it gives you every right to tell someone to shut up and not be considered rude.
Because it is such an incredible mental challenge to play percentage golf for 18 holes.
Which brings us neatly to that which makes up at least 90 percent of golf—the mental game, which is all about being an optimistic realist. To score well, you must be able to accurately judge your level of skill in playing tricky shots.
Cautious individuals who would hesitate to park a mini in a space big enough for a Cadillac suddenly believe they can thread a golf ball through a six-inch gap in the trees, fifty metres away.
Twenty five shots later, they're convinced only 'bad luck' keeps them in the woods.
When they finally make it back on to the fairway, with a 'hand' wedge, they determine to do something about their abysmal scoring. On the way home, they call into the golf shop and buy half a dozen books and videos on improving your game.
These aids are placed in the lounge so the golfer can religiously study them for an hour every night.
But doesn't.
You better believe it.
My extensive research into this area has led me to discover which part of the brain controls the golf swing. It lies beside the section which controls emotions. Indeed, in the obsessed golfer it sometimes engulfs the emotional bit. (This condition is known as Mad Golf Disease and is contracted by people who indiscriminately devour all golfing literature.)
These unfortunate players are characterised by their failing memories. If it's a fine day for golf they forget important appointments, forget they promised to take the kids out, forget they have a family.
What they don't forget is every single shot they've played and the reasons why so many of them went wrong. And they won't let anyone at the nineteenth forget them, either.
Every time the player duffs a shot, the sharp end digs into the emotion-control centre and BANG. Instant fireworks. In the worst cases it only takes one bad shot for the 'sprig' to swell and block any intelligent instructions from reaching below the neck.
(Some golfers' brain sprigs aren't as sharp as others and hence not everyone club-thumps or throws their irons.)
Is there a cure?
Yes. Well, sort of. We've performed experimental surgery on terminal cases. (Those who'd been given drugs but still couldn't quell the compulsion to bore other golfers with detailed descriptions of every shot.)
Lob-otomy seemed the only solution. Soft hands and lots of wrist action are required for the operation and our surgeon spent hours practising on croquet players before tackling a terminal Mad Golfer.
The operation took 122 strokes—she had a wicked slice—but the surgeon is confident of reducing that number when she's had more experience and gets a better idea of the layout.
It seemed that the patient was cured and could return to a normal golfing life. Fortunately, before further operations, we monitored the progress of X (his family wish him to remain anonymous). Four weeks after leaving hospital, an alarming side-effect showed up.
This condition proved incurable and X is now a committed croquet player and bores all with tales of how certain hoops are bent narrower by his opponents, and some aren't even inserted at the correct angle.
It is hoped that the enormous strides taken in the medical field will soon lead to an effective treatment. Until then, all golfers should protect themselves from Mad Golf Disease by only reading quality golf publications, such as this one.
© Kay Wall 2006