Tuesday, August 31, 2004

“GOLF? GOLF?”
This was the subject line of an email that Justin sent to me after I wrote to him that Dan and I were going to play a round of golf. He continued: “I was sure, on reading your email, that you had somehow misspelled "GORF", but perhaps no?”

Justin, who has known me very well for several years, finds the idea that I would play the waspy sport of golf harder to believe than the thought that I might find an abandoned arcade and revive the classic arcade game of GORF.

I am a waiter at a restaurant across the highway from one of the area’s most famous (and elitist) golf courses, and I have to admit, there are aspects of the game that I dislike. It is an expensive, exclusive, and environmentally questionable pastime, not to mention the fact that it is kind of ridiculous to chase a little ball around with a stick. I hate to generalize, but when I see a group of guys walk into the restaurant wearing golf shirts and caps with the names of golf equipment on them, I usually wind up bitterly swearing to myself every time I have to go near the table. Golf is a game that seems to enable a specific type of boy’s-club camaraderie that I truly hate. Golfing-buddy banter often wanders into the realm of misogynistic crap, whether they complain about married life or talk about what they’d like to do to the girl who drives the beer cart or perhaps they’ll try to out macho one another some other way like how ruthelessly they conduct business or how little regard they have for anything other than their own personal gain.

I know, I know… I’m really generalizing things here, and it’s probably a side effect of my occupation, but sometimes I get really bitter. I need to finish school, so I can get out of the service industry. Ok… Now I’ve got that out of my system.

I know from experience that all golfers don’t fit into that stereotype. When I was a kid, my mom and I lived with a guy named Bill who was obsessed with golf. Their relationship was pretty rocky, and it was hard to see them constantly fight, but being the only child of a busy single mother, I was very happy to have a guy around who liked to do anything remotely outdoorsy or athletic. My mom, whom I wish to thank for giving me a wonderfully diverse and intellectually and emotionally stimulating childhood, has never had any interest in athletics. As a matter of fact, she often was downright disdainful toward any kind of organized sport. As a kid, I was too shy and nervous to enroll in any team sports, even though my mother told me (reluctantly) that she’d be happy to take me to little league, soccer, or basketball (but not football dammit!) I know she meant well, but the idea of going to play any organized sport with other kids that had grown up playing those games with their families and friends, while I had never been exposed to anything requiring dexterity or strength was terrifying, even though I desperately wanted to learn.

I think that Bill took pity on the geeky and bookish thirteen-year-old me. He certainly spent more time with me on a daily basis than any other adult guy ever had. He enrolled me in the junior golf program and gave me a set of old clubs to learn with, and when I got better at the game, he bought himself new clubs and gave me the set that he had been playing with. They were really good clubs. I still have them.

I always respected the fact that he stayed in touch and golfed with me, even after he and my mom split up. That was twenty years ago, and he's married now. Until about a year ago, when his health started to fail, he would go to my grandmother’s house and play cards with her a couple of times a month. He’s a good guy, and a golfer, so I know for a fact that my golfer generalization, like all generalizations, is flawed.

I played “competitively” for a little while, and as a matter of fact, I played on the school team when I was a freshman. I gradually lost interest and stopped playing altogether by the time that I graduated. It didn’t fit in with the starving artist persona that I had worked so hard to create. Thankfully, video games did, and I never lost my love for them.

When I moved to New Orleans, I made friends with a guy who also loved video games. Barry would come over, and he, Ani, and I would stay up all night playing Sega Genesis. He always wanted to play sports games, because they were better multi player games. It was then that I was introduced to EA Sports. We would get drunk and play sega golf till the sun came up. Somehow, those virtual links made me want to play real golf again. I had my clubs sent to Louisiana, and Barry and I would play on the many affordable municipal courses that New Orleans had to offer.

When I moved back to Reno seven years ago, I had no desire to play anymore. I was really pissed off by how many of the once public places in which I had enjoyed hiking and biking had been cleared, irrigated, fertilized, and landscaped into playgrounds for old rich white people who could afford to pay over a hundred dollars a day for their leisure. Seven years of bitterness later... and Dan and I rented EA sports golf for the X-box. Even if you don’t like real golf, it makes a great video game. We played nonstop for a week. It was a lot of fun. We started talking about golf. Leah’s dad had recently given him a set of left-handed clubs, and he’d been to play once. One thing led to another, and we were playing golf. So, in a way, GORF led to golf. I don’t think that video games lead to violence, but they may lead to silly waspy behavior.

It’s a little harder with Ruby around to organize a golf outing than it was years ago, but my mom has offered her superhero babysitting skills, and Ani and I finally have Sundays off together, so who knows? There may be a couple of rounds in our near future! We’ve been to the driving range a couple of times, and Ruby didn’t seem to mind too much.

Come on home Justin, I’ve got an extra set of clubs and some goofy pants waiting in the garage for you. At the very least, I’ve got an extra controller for the X-box and a bottle of Knob Creek in the living room for ya.

Sorry for the lack of Ruby in this rubydawn post. I certainly haven't forgotten her. Here’s a picture of a cute baby: