Joyful, joyful we adore thee

My mother and stepfather, Jim, are here on vacation and that can only mean one thing: The joy of golf.That's right, I said it: The joy of golf.

See, this year I took a golf lesson from a golf pro. I think his name was Rick. Or maybe it was Larry. At any rate, Larry showed me everything I needed to know about golf in about a half hour.

The secret to golf is this: Relax.

That's right.

Reeeeeelaaaaaaaaxxxxxxxxx.

That ball isn't going anywhere until you hit it, Larry explained.

It's the only sport (and no, I'm not going to get into that debate about whether golf is a sport or not. It's obviously not a sport when you have to be quiet when a guy hits a ball. But I'm not going to debate that. It's just a fact. If a guy is going to hit a ball, then you should be able to cheer. But in golf you have to be quiet. On the PGA tour, even the frogs are told to shutup.) where the ball isn't a moving target.

It just sits there, Larry explained.

You've got all day to hit it. Well, a few minutes at least. That is, until the drunk fivesome behind you runs over your ball with their cart.

But Larry was right. He overhauled my swing, (which was more like a sway than a golf swing) and pretty much got me to the point, where, if I relaxed, I at least hit that damned little white no good ball straight.

I kid you not.

And so Jim and I went golfing.

My first tee shot fired off the club, struck me in the ankle and dribbled off the tee and down into the creek.

The next shot, however, went sort of straight and about 100 yards. A whole football field.

Not every shot after that went straight. But more went straight than ever before. I kept my head down, I kept my left arm straight. I checked and re-checked my grip. I broke my wrist and drove down on the ball.

I also hit a house, put three in the lake, four in the trees and found four more that weren't mine, but made up for the ones I lost (well at least some of them).

Still, my putts were wide. My chips were short. But on one hole where par was five I shot an eight.

I felt like I had just made it through Amen Corner in Augusta.

Hold your applause.

Hold your applause. Keep it down please.

This is golf, you know.

Show some class.

Now if I could just get those frogs to keep it down.

Chris Peterson is the editor of the Hungry Horse News.