Previously published in the Wall Street Journal on August 15, 2024
ByJason Gay
Over the years, I have made a series of attempts to play and enjoy golf, a sport invented by dedicated sociopaths to make otherwise well-adjusted people miserable.
After years of despair and research, it is my belief that the recreational golfer experiences six stages:
I love golf.
I hate golf.
I quit golf.
I’m playing golf again and, wow, do I like it!
I’m never playing golf for the rest of my life.
I only play golf in the summer.
I have reached the sixth stage. I used to think the secret to golf happiness was playing only once a year, but I believe summer golfer is the optimal stage of golf.
Summer golf means you only play golf from late June to late August. If you find yourself playing golf on a crisp, autumn morning in October, or you figure out how to escape your family during February vacation to sneak in nine, congrats, but you’re not a summer golfer.
A summer golfer skips at least 10 months of the year. During this time, he or she enjoys other hobbies, which do not make them sad. They fish, they play tennis, they paint, they take up the trumpet, they drive past the pickleball courts and chuckle at the people playing pickleball. They spend time with their families, concentrate on their jobs, and do not waste precious hours trying to hit a little ball into a cup while wearing a $40 visor they bought in the pro shop and will never wear again.
The summer golfer begins the season unprepared. This is critical. The summer golfer doesn’t “train” for the summer season—when he or she plays for the first time, it is the first time they have picked up a golf club since the prior August. Their bag is dusty. In the side pocket is a long receipt from CVS, a couple of tees, a $5 bill, and oh my Lord, is that a turkey wrap? Throw that disgusting moldy turkey wrap in the trash, that is a biohazard, and you probably need to buy a new bag.
It is important for the summer golfer to inform everyone in the group they are a summer only golfer. This takes the pressure off of you, and it annoys everyone else. It is protective armor you’re putting on: I don’t take this game seriously, but if I did, you would all be in trouble. This is a lie, of course. You could play 12 months of the year, five times a week, and you would be just as terrible as you are now. Honestly, you might even be a little worse.
The summer golfer doesn’t play fancy courses with names like Whispering Canyon. The summer golfer plays at public tracks with names like The Tired Duck. Whispering Canyon is a members-only paradise and you need a letter from a Rockefeller just to use the parking lot. The Tired Duck costs $17 for nine holes ($9 on Wednesdays), $32 for 18, and if you want a cart that’s an extra fiver. There’s a fridge on the porch with $3 beers and $4 turkey wraps. There’s a 9,000 year old dog in the pro shop named Arnold who is either asleep or dead. OK: I just petted Arnold. He’s asleep. I think.
The summer golfer dresses casually. To be clear: This doesn’t mean “slob.” Their shirt may have pineapples, margarita glasses and toucans on it, but it also has a collar. They show up in linen shorts and their absolute best flip-flops. They wear a hat from a highway bar called BUSTER’S CAVE and if they don’t have a hat, they can buy a $40 visor from the pro shop, they’re in a rack right next to Arnold.
The summer golfer always starts strong. Don’t ask me why—maybe you should ask the Journal’s Ben Cohen, who wrote a book about the strange science of streaks—but the summer golfer tends to go right out and score par-birdie-par. Maybe birdie-birdie-par.
It’s a beautiful thing. You don’t quite understand it. Maybe you lost all your bad habits over the winter. Maybe you’re secretly a fabulous golfer and the game is finally rewarding you. Maybe The Tired Duck is really easy, or possibly a miniature golf course.
But then…on the very next hole, you quadruple-bogey a par 4, then quintuple-bogey a par 3, and you’re back to your rotten golfing self, even as you quietly score yourself a four on each, because it’s just summer golf, who cares.
Which is entirely the point. This wicked game is best when played in the most casual season. You play among vacationing friends and relatives, kids and adults, scratch players and wanton cheaters, too many of them in bare feet. You deal with humidity, poison ivy, poison oak, mosquitoes, horse flies and people who want to talk about their fantasy football draft. You can keep score, or not. You do not care if you win or lose.
Let me rephrase that: You do not care if you lose. If you win, you are going to tell everyone on earth, several times. You’re going to be insufferable about it. You’re going to buy beers and turkey wraps for everyone. Throw Arnold a tennis ball! Come on, Arnold! Summer golf is summer golf, but a win is a win.
Write to Jason Gay at Jason.Gay@wsj.com
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Appeared in the August 16, 2024, print edition as 'The Happiest Golfer Is the Summer Golfer'.
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