A Hole In One

Reads: 258  | Likes: 2  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 2

Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

It was a beautiful spring day.  I had gotten my own set of golf clubs.  They were custom-made to fit my nine-year-old stature.  The best part is they looked just like Daddy's.  I had been with him at the driving range several times.  I was excited.  Daddy and I were going to go play golf.  I was feeling very grown up.  My sister, my mom, and grandmother also went, but they were at the clubhouse talking to other ladies who wives of other golfers.
There was a tournament for charity going on and Daddy and some men from his office had agreed to be a foursome for the event.  Daddy showed me how to drive the golf cart which was again very exciting.  He also gave me a funny tablet.  The names of each man was put at the top of individual pages.  Then there were little boxes and lines labeled according to the hole they were playing.  I had no idea how the game was played.  I just knew they hit the tiny ball with a big stick called a driver first.  Then they used different sticks in their bags to get the ball to a green with a flag on it.  The putter was the last stick they used when they tried to get the ball to roll into a tiny cup on the ground.  I was instructed to not say anything while they were lining up their shots.
The three other men were an assortment of, well, at the age of nine, I have to admit I did not think they were all that smart.  They all wore hats that they took off constantly.  They wore sunglasses that they constantly raised, so they could see better.  They all three had diamonds on their little fingers.  I am sure my daddy had helped them purchase.  However, when they went to hold their sticks they held them in such a manner that the ring on their little finger tore their golf glove.  I think actually at one time they all compared who had the biggest pinky-diamond.  I guess since men do not wear broaches and pendants they have to have something to show off.  I also found it interesting that when they talked, they always explained everything with the hand that had the diamonds.  There was one man, Abe, that talked very fast and the other two were always telling him to slow down he was not in New York anymore.  I had decided if he did not know he was in New York, why would talking so fast make a difference.  I had also decided that people in New York just listened fast.  I did discover that all of them, including my Daddy wanted to play like someone named Arnold.  I think he was a golfer on TV.  Sundays at our house were kind of weird.  Daddy would turn on golf and then go to sleep watching it.  If anyone kept trying to watch it, they would go to sleep too.  All these people followed these guys around who like these guys here... hit the little white ball with different sticks.
I examined the tablet Daddy had given me.  My name was on one of the pages.  Oh, Boy.  They were going to let me play.My score did not seem to be important for the tournament.  What my daddy did not know is I had no idea I was supposed to count the strokes it took to move the ball.  He had told me to write down each  hole.  So, I did.  I had been the minutes recorder for the Brownies, so I knew how to record what happened.
We were on the ninth hole.  One of the men  hit his ball, and it landed in a "sand trap".  It was an odd looking hollow spot filled with sand.  Anyway, the gentle man started talking about his sore big toe again.  I put up my hand and said, "Excuse me.  You cannot use that excuse again.  You used it on the fourth hole."  All four men looked at each other.  They all approached me, trying to smile.
Daddy reached me first and took the tablet out of my hand.  I had recorded each hole... the excuses that is.  I had no idea I was supposed to count the strokes.  Each hole I had written down exactly what each man had said.
"Well, gentlemen, we have nine more holes to complete.  Do you think we can safely say that each excuse is one stroke?"  They all agreed.  Daddy then put the tablet in his pocket.  I guess I had been fired as record keeper.  When I recorded the minutes for the Brownie Scouts I was supposed to record what was said.  This seemed no different.  Then Daddy winked at me and said, "This is one scorecard I am going to keep.  This, gentlemen is a hole in one."  They all seemed to get a chuckle out of each excuse they had all come up with for each one of the first nine holes.
They did not win the tournament, but it was a very special day.  I had gotten to play golf with my Daddy. 

Submitted: May 21, 2021

© Copyright 2023 Texasjane. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:



Amusing. You were an original child!

Fri, May 21st, 2021 11:21am


That is what my grandmother used to say. She said I may not be the sharpest crayon in the box, but I was the most colorful. She was a hoot and she trained me well. Thank you for the review.

Fri, May 21st, 2021 8:56am

Serge Wlodarski

Not many people discover the secret of golf at such an early age.

Fri, May 21st, 2021 12:51pm


It was the perfect avenue to doing something with my dad. That is really all I cared about in the first place. Thank you for the review.

Fri, May 21st, 2021 8:54am

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