Intermittent golfer...

I really enjoy playing golf. But due financial and time and other worldly constraints I don't get to play nearly as often as I like. Now, I hear guys complain about this all the time- how they've only gotten out to play once this week, blah blah blah. I am playing this weekend for the first time since last summer. Last summer. Yeah, that's how bad I've got it, you whiners.

Golf, like many, isn't a sport where you have the luxury of not playing for a long stretch and then coming back to with the hopes of achieving again what little success you had the last time you played. And that's really all that I ask for: a little success. And yet, for this weekend- that may just be to much to ask.

Somewhere near Princeton, New Jersey, a golf course is trembling. Not so much in fear of my conquering it, so much as it is in fear of what I may do the course: how many balls I will leave out there, what my wake may look like, how much I will be holding up the group behind us.

And yet, I'm looking forward to it. This relationship with golf is strange and troubling- but it's one that I can't refuse. To have few hours where all my frustrations lie in my attempt to make solid contact with a small, white, dimpled ball- and the frustrations of the outside world subside, or at least take a back seat. The adding of stress to relieve stress. It almost makes perfect sense.

In a perfect world, all this would happen more often. But for the sake of golf courses all over the world, we'll probably keep to a minimum for the foreseeable future.