"Playing golf? Me? A crackpot idea like no other." - Those were the first thoughts when I had a conversation with two active golfers years ago. The situation was entirely unsportsmanlike, as the conversation took place on the premises of a newspaper editorial office. The golfers were colleagues who liked to play a few holes on the nearby golf course after work in the summer. And as they were talking about bringing their "silverware" the next day to hit some balls in the evening, I happened to be standing there. I sensed the fascination that this sport must have held for them and asked about it. I knew nothing about golf, only the usual prejudices. And that explained my first thoughts when the colleagues asked me if I would like to come along and give it a try.
I thought and still think I'm not athletic, I used to play table tennis fairly well, so I knew - and from the days of physical education at school: I don't have a good feel for the ball. Neither with my feet, nor with my hands, nor with a game device can I guide balls reasonably. Now I should try to do that with a club whose hitting surface is half a body length away from the handle? No way. That won't work. But my colleagues didn't let up. It was as if they wanted to proselytize me, to get me out of my dreary life without golf and into the pleasure of chasing a small white ball in the open air and with no small amount of baggage, i.e. equipment.
Having a high regard for my colleagues, I thought to myself, "There must be something about this game if these two are raving about it and so eagerly anticipating their next match on the court." So they had made it, I was interested. That's all they were going for that day. I agreed, would go along for the ride, watch, and maybe even take a swing at a ball with a club myself.
Next article in the series: All Beginnings 2: With Prejudice