In what is the fulfillment of a decade-old dream, I've finally started playing golf. For a long time my excuse was that I simply couldn't afford it. Then when I could afford to buy myself a set of golf clubs, though second hand, it was incredibly hard to find one.
(Side note: I'm left-handed and golf equipment is different for right and left-handers. Clubs for southpaws can almost never be found in South India).
So till recently, my involvement in golf was limited to supporting Greg Norman through various golf majors broadcast on TV, reading up about his Open Championship win at Turnberry in '86, collecting Sportstar clippings of his come-from-behind win at Royal St. George's in '93 and sitting in disbelief as he collapsed in a heap of nervous errors and a final round 78 in Augusta in '96.
This past week though, life took a wonderful turn. Golfing with a client last Thursday and wandering by the golf pro-shop afterwards, my brother discovered a new Dunlop set of left-hander's golf clubs. I got the call about them on Thursday night and by 11am on Saturday after a small cash outflow, I was the owner of golf clubs.
Monday morning was also my first one-hour golf lesson and though a bit of a killer on the wallet, it has so far been incredible.
Having watched the sport on the telly for years now, it was incredibly tempting to try to step up to the ball and give it a fearful whack and then stand by, hand over brow watching it (hopefully) slice through the clouds. It is a lot harder than that.
If there's one thing I've learned about the sport in 2 days, it is that TV makes it look far too simple.
Not only is it painful to have spent 18k on clubs, another .75k on golf balls and having to spend a further .5k a week on green and caddy fees, its worse when my golf swing sucks. While the key is to have a golf swing that's simple and more importantly repeatable, the only thing I seemed to be able to do repetitively is have people ducking for cover. Well, I exaggerate but the point is that its easy to feel down that you're quite simply unable to hit a stationary ball well enough with a big metal club.
After the first couple of days, the pain is also not just mental as even those muscles, previously thought of as non-existent, hurt.
However, towards the end of my little stint on the driving range, I struck a 5-iron so sweet that I can still hear that 'thwack' in my head. It soared through the clear sky and though I didn't lift my hand to my brow to watch the ball flight or raise my palm to acknowledge non-existent applause, it is enough to get me back on the driving range tomorrow and day after.
And that's because golf isn't just sport and isn't just about hitting a little ball with an enormous metal club. It is about finding that one swing, that one moment where the arm, hip, wrist and whatever else that goes into that golf swing, is in perfect harmony and then trying hopelessly to recreate that moment as much as possible.
