I swore I would never golf.

My Dad was a scratch golfer. And when I was in architecture school, they told me to be a good architect I would need to learn to golf. I quit school. Seriously.

Aww…but lust will do strange things to a man. I met a woman (she is now my Ex-wife if this tells you, kind reader, anything), who played only one sport – golf. I made the supreme sacrifice, I told her I would learn to golf – for her.

So, she says, “But you need to take lessons”.

Pulling my best tennies on my bare feet and putting my then long hair in a pony tail, we were off to take lessons.

I know the golf pro looked at me skeptically (maybe it was the pony tail)…. he pulls a ladies 4 iron out of her bag, hands it to me, puts a ball on the ground and says hit it. So I did – 200 yards straight as an arrow. Which meant absolutely nothing to me. He puts balls down, I hit them, 180, 200, 220 yards. I am pounding the dickens out of them.

We finish the bucket of balls. Instructor says to me, “I have been set up, you have done this before”. I told him seriously, I had never hit a golf ball before in my life.

Wanting to do this right, I get custom fit clubs, shoes, bag, the Full Monty. Take lesson after lesson. I spend some serious change on this sport.

The result being, I can no longer hit a golf ball, with any club straight for over about 50 feet.

My golf clubs are now locked up securely, where they will not harm myself, or anyone near me.