“Dude, why are you sweating so much? We’re golfing.”

That is a query I have been plagued with for years when addressing the ball on
the 5th through 18th hole on any golf course in the country. My friends, family, and
random pair ups feign concern that immediately rolls over into amusement and
ends in relief that they don’t have to worry about losing their grip on their driver
because a typhoon of salty hand tears hasn’t sprouted in their palms.

So how am I so sweaty after playing a leisurely 4 holes? (The waterworks inevitably
start on the 5th hole. Never more, never less.) If I could pinpoint just one cause, the
issue would have been remedied years ago. And yes, I’m not in very good physical
shape, because I know you are already asking yourselves that question. Sorry to
disappoint all you amateur sleuths out there but this vexation started occurring
when I was in peak physical shape playing on my Junior Varsity football team. (I
was the starting quarterback. Boom!) I’m sure my beer belly and diet of soda and
Funyons doesn’t help, but it is not the primary cause.

Before we go any further I want to make it clear that, nine times out of ten, I am
driving a cart the entire course. If I was walking every course with my garbage clubs
that are so heavy it feels like I’m carrying an anvil in a bag made of dying suns, I
would liquefy into a pool of fatty sludge and Budweiser.

My working theory is that my dampness is a result of a delicate balance of three
things.

1. I swing out of my shoes every shot I take. I’m not talking just about my tee
shots. I try and destroy the ball like it stole my Xbox on every single stroke.
Even my practice swings. Why don’t I stop trying to do that? Shut up is why!
2. I am in a full panic every time I address the ball. I talk myself into a frenzy.
“Don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up” is on a constant loop in my head
from the second I grab a club to the moment the ball slices into a neighboring
fairway. If my girlfriend’s father is watching me, forget it. I am full on loosing
my bowels. I should just relax, huh? Seriously, shut up!
3. I’m way fatter than I should be. Stop judging me!

So the bottom line is, I know why I’m a shame faucet while playing one of the most
relaxing and enjoyable games in history. But as I write this I am realizing that my
issues would be better addressed in a Therapy session than the 14th tee box at
Legends.

About The Author

gardner.bobby@gmail.com'

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


nine × 5 =