A Glorious Game

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ISLAND IMPRESSIONS

BY FR. TOM PURDY, RECTOR OF CHRIST CHURCH

A GLORIOUS GAME

My father’s paperback collection of B.C., MAD, Wizard of ID, and Peanuts, just to name a few, was regular reading for me thirty years ago. I loved B.C. in particular. The comic had recurring topics over the years, including golf. I remember one strip in which B.C. is teaching “The Cute Chick” (that was her name) how to play golf. At one point she says, “Let me get this straight, the less I hit the ball, the better I am doing.” “That’s right,” he admits. “Then why do it at all?” she asks? It’s a question that leaves him standing in the fairway as the sun goes down asking the same thing. The philosophy of golf is a bit counter-intuitive like that. I have those same moments of intrinsic strife myself, particularly after I’ve done something like hitting out of one greenside bunker into another …

Why play indeed! I discovered golf in young adulthood and fell in love with it like so many do. I didn’t do much with golf clubs or really learn to play until I was in my twenties. Access to the university course in seminary is what got me hooked, and now I simply spend most of my time wishing I had the time to play more often. I play very infrequently these days, which is ironic, given that we’re surrounded by golf courses. I feel like the guy shipwrecked on a deserted island, dying of thirst, and surrounded by water.

Like most golfers, I tend to think I’m better than I am. I remember the good shots more than the bad ones. I can remember shots when I was playing by myself that I hit so well I looked around to see if anyone was there to see it. I also have a good golf story about the first tournament I played in a previous congregation. I was invited to play on a team with the local newspaper owners, members of the parish, as the fourth on their team. During the tournament, a four-man scramble, I played very well. I even chipped in from off the green on three separate holes. They thought I was a low handicap golfer, when in fact I was just a duffer who had an incredible day. It took a lot of rounds of bad golf later to convince some of them. I guess they thought I was setting them up to try to take their money.

All of this is why November is one of my favorite months of the year. It’s RSM month, when the FedEx Cup comes to town for Davis Love’s tournament at Sea Island. It’s a local holiday. I was warned about the impact the tournament has on the island, and the warnings were accurate. I have seen more of my congregation on the golf course at the RSM than I have on any given Sunday, and that includes Sunday at the tournament. It’s fun to go out after church on the final day and watch people sheepishly admit why they missed church. I get it. I’d be there Sunday morning too if I weren’t otherwise engaged! I don’t tell them that; I have a little fun watching them squirm.

I also love it so much because I enjoy watching the professionals who can make something so hard look, generally, so easy. I am mesmerized by the highlight reel shots, and comforted by the shanks. But mostly I am in awe when I see what a master can do with a stick of metal and a little composite and rubber ball. At times, it’s nothing short of beautiful and magical. There are certainly some who cannot find such things in golf. They are the ones who ask, “Then why play at all?” Which is why they probably shouldn’t. For those who know golf, we know how hard it is, and how remarkable it is. It is indeed beautiful and magical – a challenge that must be met, perfection always out of reach. In fact, it’s an approach to life that is the opposite of, “why bother?” Golf can be time consuming and aggravating, but it’s worth it when it all comes together. It may not stretch back to the B.C. era, but it’s hooked us for at least 600 years and it’s still getting better. I wish I could say the same. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to the tournament. See you there!