Member Confessions

I told my wife I was playing 18 holes. I was in the car park for 45 minutes working up the courage to go in. Came home and said it was a great round.

Lost six balls on hole 4. Bought a pack of seven from the pro shop. Lost five of those. I am now the club’s single biggest revenue stream.

My swing coach watched my footage back and said he’d never seen anything quite like it. He meant that as a bad thing. He has since retired from teaching.

I accidentally drove my golf buggy into the ornamental pond. The fish are fine. My dignity is not. The club newsletter ran a photo. My wife framed it.

I have been playing for 22 years. I am getting worse. My doctor says this is not medically possible. I have the scorecard to prove it is.

I threw my 7-iron into a lake in 1987. I still think about it. Not with regret. With relief. It deserved it.

I once spent 20 minutes looking for my ball, only to discover I’d been playing the wrong hole. The correct hole was 300 yards to my left. I had an audience.

I bought new clubs, new shoes, a new bag, a new glove, and a GPS watch. My handicap went up. I am now buying a new hat, just to be sure.

I got a hole in one on the 11th. Nobody believed me. I had no witnesses. I had been playing alone on a Tuesday. This is the loneliest achievement of my life.