Ode to the Frustrated Golfer
by Scott France

One would think that after all these years
that a few secrets of golf would evolve
maybe one simple move or a simple technique
granting all of my swing problems solved.

But this isn’t the case, not in the least
as over the countless strokes and years I’ve found
nary a trick of the trade that works
the same in each golfing round.

Take the ball above my feet for example
as I’m taught to aim further right
but to my dismay – as the ball’s on its way
I’m befuddled with the straightest ballflight.

The dreaded shank is yet another conundrum
which from out of nowhere it suddenly appears
sending my playing partners running for cover
as I brace for my darkest fears.
Where this dastardly strike from the hosel comes from?
really, nobody knows
but once one comes it seems the floodgates open
as this virus exponentially grows.

My approach shot that lands beyond the flag
seldom, if ever spins back
but the shot that lands well short of the pin
digs into the green and stops dead in its tracks.

The best tee shot of the round I hit straight and true
in all of the grace and power that goes with it
is a slap in the face, as I exclaim “what a waste”
when I find it in an old non-repaired divot.

The type of tee shot that finds the green
on a long par3 that I abhor
only to find the ball dead center
of where the hole location was the day before.

My tee shot on a long par4
on numerous occasions, to my despair
despite a helping 2-club wind
never seems to get in the air.
But then into the wind with my ball teed low
the magnetic force must beckon from the moon
as my ball takes off, going straight up in the air
as though it were a hot-air balloon.

Those days when I remember to bring my umbrella
to the course when I play a round
are usually the days when the sun shines its rays
and nary a cloud in the sky can be found.
Yet the minute I forget to pack my umbrella
Mother Nature adds to my woes
as the storm clouds roll in and because of my sin
I end up soaked from my head to my toes.

Yes, one would think after a number of years
some of these things would be figured out
but after 20+ years and countless tears
I’m beginning to have my doubts.

An old friend told me many moons ago
that I should take up a different game
one that wouldn’t cause such an unsettling nervous twitch
and compel me to take the Lord’s name in vain.

A fortune I’ve spent in those 20 years since
trying to satisfy a lifelong endeavor
of experiencing that day when everything goes my way
and my tee shots seem to go forever.

I’m still waiting for that day, needless to say
with too much spent for such little gained
all of the effort and time invested
in exchange for frustration and pain.

It’s enough to make me reconsider, for sure
that my old friend’s advice might’ve been true
but I’m in too deep – there’s no turning back now
what else on earth would I do?

I’m not sure why we continue to play
but eagerly we play nonetheless,
knowing full well ahead of time
that it’s very rare that we play our best.

It’s a game of opposites and endless riddles
an afternoon spent amongst friends
as we pass the time remembering our primes
and praying that it never ends.

So the game isn’t just merely about
hitting a little white ball into a hole
and those who suffer from the same affliction
can appreciate this story I’ve told.