I love to blog about golfing because it’s entertaining. Many have tried, and continue to try, their luck at golfing only to find the odds of beating the score of 100 on 18 holes more challenging than the mega-bazillion lottery. For those that say they love golf so much they subscribe to the golfing channel, all I have to say is they must need assistance sleeping.
If you have ever watched golf on TV, you know the announcers whisper as the pros near the green. So gentle is their voice that you can hear the grass bend as the players approach. Once on the green the player walks around scoping out the lay and the slope of the green. Then they pick blades of grass, leaves, fleas and ticks, and the quarter I left there last week to spot a ball out of the way of their approaching putt. Then they pull out an iPad and get the latest stance on GolfTV, run a few algorithms and then sink the putt while total silence hangs in the air. Then the crowd goes nuts and erupts into cheers. Next it is the fairway play and the drive in which the announcer ever so gently states “He nailed that one Bob, straight as an arrow.” Sickening isn’t it? There is no spice in TV golf.
In my youth I’d watch my dad start a tournament on TV and be asleep within 5 minutes. He’d be snoring away in 6 minutes. So we’d go outside and play while the announcers continued their lullaby for my father. “Yes, Bob, that putt was perfect!” Gag me!
Seriously, a channel dedicated to golf? Not just one channel, but numerous channels. At 1:00 in the morning they have a special on how the balls are made, with a repeat at 2:00. Then they try to fill in the time with the “human” aspect of each golfer, of which I admit, Tiger had spiced up a little in years past. That awakened a few people.
Which brings me to a point, finally – they need more comic relief in between rounds. And I am just the one to do it. Have me drive from the pro box to the beginner’s tee box and then the women’s tee box at the 3rd stroke. Everyone would be laughing until my next shot, which I would affectionately dub the “human pachinko” as my ball knocks out a few spectators. Spicy enough? Next, I pull out my sand wedge and people put on their protective eye wear. If a 9-iron is needed, then groin protective wear is a must. The announcers then would be much more interesting. “Holy crap, Bob! Duck! Did you see that pachinko shot take out ten! And that poor squirrel too.” When I am on the course, they will call it the EW Greenlee Memorial Torturement (sic). My chief sponsors would be protective gear vendors and doomsday suppliers.
But if the old way is still preferred, just sit back and watch the 1 millionth putt of the month as announcers again put you to sleeeeeeep………… (Insert snoring sound here)