My friend, Rob, texted me yesterday, asking if I wanted to try to squeeze in a round of golf before the rain.
I wanted to point out to Rob that it was kind of raining already. A gentle mist was falling, and the ground at the course was sure to be soaked. I was feeding the kids and preparing to climb on my exercise bike, but instead, I said yes.
“I’ll be there.”
When we arrived, the small building where you pay for your round of golf was closed. There was one person teeing off on the first hole, but as far as we could tell, no one else was on the course. It was cold, wet, and drizzling by the time we were ready to tee off.
For the next couple hours, Rob and I had fun. We played golf. We struggled to improve upon a game that affords constant opportunities for improvement. We told stories about the days when we taught together in the same school before Rob’s retirement. We caught up on recent events in each other’s lives and the lives of mutual friends.
We exercised. We laughed a lot.
Rob, who has only been playing golf for about two months, swore like a sailor when his shots rocketed into the forest, dribbled off the tee, or skittered across the green.
It’s hilarious to watch. In the 22 years that I’ve known Rob, I’ve never heard him swear so much.
We also saw a fox. Rob saw one with a meal in its mouth. I saw one galloping across a green. We saw a bald eagle. We saw a red-tailed hawk being pursued by smaller birds. We saw rabbits. We said hello to a dog named Tessie.
And we saw deer.
A stood about ten feet from a deer that needed to move so I could punch a ball under some trees. Later on, as Rob was preparing to swing, a mother deer burst from the trees behind him, followed by her fawn. The fawn saw Rob, stopped, and turned back into the forest as the mother pranced across the fairway into a second stand of trees. Realizing that she had left her baby behind, the mother then pranced back into the original stand of trees to retrieve her baby.
While all of this was happening, a bald eagle perched itself in a tree directly above Rob.
It was quite a moment. Then Rob hit a fantastic shot over my head and adjacent to the green.
I shot 9 over par. I missed make-able birdie putts on the seventh and the final holes that are still annoying me.
Other than the one man teeing off when we arrived, Rob and I saw no one else on the course. When we passed by the small building at the end of the round, it was still closed and empty.
Free round of golf.
To think I might’ve allowed a little mist, the occasional drizzle, and unseasonably chilly temperatures to stop me from playing golf. To think that some less-than-ideal weather may have prevented me from spending time with my friend, walking in nature, playing a game I love, and seeing all of that wildlife.
It makes no sense.
I’ve played golf in the bitter cold. Last week Rob and I played as temperatures were approaching 100. I’ve played while it’s snowing, and I’ve played while there was still a considerable amount of snow on the ground.
A little mist is nothing compared to those days, and yet I nearly stayed him.
How stupid of me.
I’ll never forget the moment Rob was preparing to swing when those deer burst out from the trees behind him and a bald eagle perched above him.
You don’t get moments like that too often in life.
Thank goodness my newly-obsessed golfing friend had the wisdom to suggest that we play.
