So when I stand on a tee box for the first time, teeing up the ball and looking at the distant green, I still feel strange. Is this me? What am I doing here? And why? It will be a long time before this very spot on the tee of the first hole will give me the inner peace that I have come to love.
Nothing is important anymore when I take the stance and address the ball. It's all about me and the white ball. All everyday problems are suddenly forgotten, the prospect of a round of golf is indescribable happiness in the open air.
But back to the very first tee shot. Hole 1 has about 90 meters, so it's a par 3. As a beginner with a club handicap, I should need six strokes to sink the ball into the hole. However, beginners with a club handicap have already completed the golf license course, which means they have studied theory and practiced, practiced, practiced the tee shot.
All this took place under the eyes of a golf pro, a professional trainer. I, on the other hand, have only a few swings on the driving range behind me and already it is to be serious. It became terrifying.
Looking back, I think I hit the ball into every bush that lined this course. I couldn't hit even a halfway decent shot, I crisscrossed, I didn't even play the ball off the fairway, but always out of the rough. Actually, it was frustrating.
Not only once did I want to throw the club, a 7 iron, far away from me. But my colleagues not only gave me encouragement, but also taught me what is behind the term "golf etiquette". You behave yourself, you don't yell, you don't scold loudly, and you don't throw clubs.
Of course, all of this goes without saying, but on the course, in the exuberance of emotions, even the best-behaved player can get a little carried away. Adrenalin sends its regards.
And the only word you are allowed to shout, or even have to shout, is "Fore" and warns other players on the court when the ball you have just hit flies threateningly in their direction. Learned something again. And I got to know the feeling of elation that flows through the body when the ball falls into the hole, no matter how many strokes it took to get there.
Four holes were to be played on this first day, and as we sat in the clubhouse having a cool drink, I noticed that my colleagues had taken far fewer steps and, of course, fewer strokes. I think I covered four times the distance, always from left to right across the course and back.
Still: I wanted more. "When are you going to play again?", I almost urged myself, presuming that they would be happy to take me again, to wait for me on the courses once more.
And so I was indeed on this short course with the two of them several more times this summer. And also alone. And with other beginners, because I wasn't the only one among my colleagues who got infected. It quickly became clear to everyone that it was only a matter of time before they could take the golf license course.
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