When I was a kid, when something was obvious, someone would say “Oh, that’s like carrying coal to New Castle.” Nobody says that anymore. In fact, as a kid we lived near New Castle, PA, and I couldn’t figure out what the big deal was about carrying coal there. I mean there was lots of coal in Pennsylvania, and they carried it to Sandy Lake where I lived too. Then someone told me it was New Castle in England, so for a long time I thought they didn’t have any coal there, and I felt sorry for them.
The point of all this being that you when you say people play golf in The Villages, it is so obvious you don’t even need to say it. However, when The Blonde in the House and I moved here in 2000, I had played very little golf – just a few times as work kept me too busy. Thus, I arrived here with a tennis racquet. (I have used that racquet once since I have been here.
Now, I did not start playing golf, but rather went to softball and racquet-ball.
However, all the friends I met were golfing, so I got some clubs and used a bullseye putter that had been hanging around the house for many a year. I just went out, hit the ball, found where it went, hit it again etc. Not great, but I didn’t delay the guys I was playing with very much. The bullseye by the way enabled me to putt from either side, so I tried both and found I liked putting from the left best. Do the rest right handed.
Over the years I progressed from lousy to only slightly lousy. That being the case, the Blonde, who never played golf in her life, said “You need lessons!!” I was not as certain about that as I assumed that at my age who cares. The voice of authority re-iterated that a number of time. I broke down and took some. When I was self-taught, I could at least hit the tee shot some distance in the air.
After said lessons, I could no longer get the ball in the air. Every time I took a swing, my mind would fill with instructions about “holding the club this way, bend your knees, stand here, weight on some foot or other etc.” The ultimate result was that I turned from a lousy golfer who could get the ball in the air to a lousy golfer who couldn’t. When all was said and done, I preferred the former.
I played for some time as a player who hit balls one foot off the ground. Then, we took a slight detour from The Villages to John Knox Village in Orange City. While there I mentioned my golf woes to a friend. He no longer played golf, but had been a scratch golfer in his time. He went out with me to a driving range to watch me swing. After trying to keep a straight face he worked with me, and thanks to his patient coaching, I can hit the ball in the air again – as long as I don’t think!
When we came back to The Villages, it was good to be a lousy golfer who can get the ball in the air again (sometimes). Also when I was at John Knox, I found they played table tennis and after not having played for over 50 years, I decided to enter that fray. I found that while I could not play like my fraternity days, I could at least do a decent job.
Back at The Villages again, I noted there was a group who played table tennis at Laurel Manor. It took me awhile to get up nerve, but I went over one day to see what I could do. Someone grabbed me for a doubles game without a warm-up (tragic). I played some more, and then was told that my serve of fifty some years ago was illegal. Tried their way, and could not even hit the ball.
Cripes, now I suppose that I will have to take “lessons!”
Barry Evans is a Villager.