I am the second golfer to reach the golf course this morning. While the first golfer opts to take off from the tenth tee, I choose to start from tee one. These two tees are twins sitting parallel to each other. The fellow sportsman doesn’t waste any time on warm-up and off he goes.
I, on the other hand, begin to warm up by standing on the tee while my caddie makes adjustments for me to take a shot. In the meantime, an old fellow appears on the tee, fixes his ball, steals my turn recklessly, and swings it hard straight to the bunker. I suppose he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, he is visibly angry. I smile and think how this guy will get through the rest of the day with a mood like that. He begins his morning violating others rights at 4:30 am. May golf calm and exhaust him, I hope.
I am trying to ignore him while my caddie insists that it’s our turn. I ask him to let it go. Anyone so discourteous at this old age, with such anguish for nothing valuable, is either in trouble or a trouble himself. Besides I am here to golf, not to lead society on the right path on a charming dawn like today. The apprehending weather and trees with open arms desire to hold me. The lushness of the grass is making me a sheet in the wind's eye. It is only the morning breeze riding on the first light that keeps me attached to reality. Songbirds are performing polyphony of the daybreak and clouds are in the mood to pour drops of grace. It's the sound of the “one wood” at hole two that adds splendor to this crack of dawn. The touchdown of the ball in the middle of the fairway appends glory to my nonpareil satisfaction.
Trees on the right side of the fairway seem annoyed because my shot misses them and unexpectedly moves in the right direction. They think it’s my duty and their right to receive a ball each time I play at this fairway. I walk like an Egyptian whenever my tee shot goes straight; I don’t get to imitate a Pharaoh often.
This shot grants me faith to attempt a regulation on the pin. Surprisingly the job is done well. The caddie utters, “good shot.” In the meantime I behave as if two good shots in a row was a routine. In a prideful move, I collect the putter from my bag and approach the ball waiting for me approximately two feet from the hole. Crowned by the previous two shots, I am anxious to usher it into the hole. It stops on the edge totally ignoring my requirements. I came so close to my long awaited “birdie”. My caddie however claims, “birdie”, he further explains that due to the coronavirus protocol it is considered a putt. I reply, “No, I won’t take it. I am neither in the mood to take a favor from a killer (coronavirus), nor I would accept a bribe from you”.
Borrowed victory in life gets us nowhere but to a jungle of shortcuts. When one makes a false claim, one only deceives oneself. Win through effort grants joy, while corruption digs you in depression. In order to maintain my positivity I happily add a par to the Golfshot app and propel myself towards the next tee.
At times like this I miss my golf buddies even more. If we were playing together they could have bucked me up at the previous putt. Anyways, distance makes a sincere friendship more binding. I will play with my friend again since he has won the fight with COVID-19. Both of his tests came negative. He is in rehabilitation now. Soon I will do what coronavirus failed to do. I will beat his a… at the next round we play together. Get well soon bro.
By Ahsan Jamil
Golfer, author, blogger, poet, entrepreneur, wanderer
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