Golf on the Hill

When I was around thirteen or fourteen, my parents bought me a membership at the local country club. Prior to this, I thought I could never have an interest in golf. I didn't really know much about it, but despite this, whenever my uncle (who was an avid golfer) came over and suggested I start playing, I'd scoff, "No way--it's boring!" I assumed that it was boring, anyway. It seemed to be a slow sport, where nothing much happened. I based my opinion, of course, on what I had seen on TV. On the tube, the game seem so disconnected. It wasn't like hockey where all of the action unfolded before your eyes; it was more like a soap opera, where one player would take a shot, you'd see the ball (barely) float away, and then they'd cut to someone else.

When friends of mine started telling me about all the fun they were having on the golf course, though, I thought, "Hey, maybe kids can have fun with this sport," and I got interested. My interest resulted in me being given a brand new set of golf clubs! Score!


These are Golf Clubs

Jason, a friend of mine at the time, was of the kids who was into golf. He didn't have a club membership himself, but he'd been to the driving range from time to time. Anyway, Jason was over one day and we decided we'd go to a nearby neighbor's house to chip some golf balls, since they had a very big lawn, and had let me do so before.

These neighbors prefered that we use "whiffle balls," which are hollow plastic golf balls that don't fly very far. If we did choose to use real golf balls, we were to be very careful, since their yard (and our part of the neighborhood in general) was the highest point in town, so it overlooked much of the city. At the back of our neighbor's lot was a tree line, which was the very top of a steep, wooded hill. Beneath the hill was a street; beyond that, a used car lot; and beyond that, an even busier street, which ran parallel to the town's river.

As you might imagine, chipping plastic golf balls with our pitching wedges got boring very quickly. We livened things up by hitting them at one another, but even that grew tiresome after a while. Eventually we brought out the real golf balls and started chipping them to the tree line at the back of the lot. They'd tock off the trees from time to time, the occasional ball rolling harmlessly down the hill. And yeah, I guess that was kind of fun...

But what do ya know--even that got boring pretty soon! So Jason and I reached into our golf bags and grabbed our tees. Then out came the drivers, and then the real fun began. I actually tried to rationalize that we'd only hit "low drives" that would enter the forcefield of trees and then fall immedietly to the ground. Hey, it sounded plausible to a couple of kids who desperately wanted to crank a few shots! Ah, who am I kidding. I knew exactly what we were getting ourselves into.

TINK! Went the first of my drives, the golf ball soaring over the tree line.

"Oops! A little high, a little high," I said, teeing up another.
"You'd better be careful, man," Jason teased, before cranking a ball of his own over the trees.

We laughed hysterically as we belted all of our golf balls into the blue sky over the hill. Because we couldn't see where they landed, it was if they were disappearing. Such innocent fun.

Later on, when Jason and I were back at my house playing video games or something, the doorbell rang. I heard my mom answer it and then yell upstairs for me to come down. "Uh oh," I said to Jason, who was also told to come to the front door. Standing in the entrance way was an older police officer, holding one of our golf balls in the air between his thumb and forefinger, a stern look on his face.

"Does this belong to you?" He asked me very seriously.
"Uh-Uhmm," I stammered, looking at my socked feet. "Yeah, I think so."

For the next ten minutes Jason and I were lectured on how "dangerous" what we had done was. Well, it wasn't exactly a lecture. Basically, my Mom would shriek something like, "What were you thinking?!" and then she and the Officer would stare at us as we tried to look sorry for what we had done. Apparently we nearly hit some people who were browsing through the used car lot beneath the hill. The rest of the balls (and I don't know how many there were) miraculously managed to bounce through both the lot and through the rapidly moving traffic (some going as far as the river, around three-hundred yards away!) without causing any damage or injury.

My Mom later told me that while Jason and I stood red-faced, staring at our feet, the officer was giving her a slight smirk. When he eventually left (after giving us the stern warning not to do it again) he candidly remarked to my Mom, "Those two sure have some damn good golf swings!"