You know how all your life people kept telling you “college is tough.” As a freshman I was carrying more than a full load, but the counselor allowed it because some were a few "easy" classes....
So on a clear, mild and sunny summer day, the first day of a “pushover” class, at least three to four dozen of us were following this lanky guy like he was the pied piper leading us to the promised land. Or out to the deserted campus gridiron.

He stopped, turned and asked, “How many of you have ever played golf?” Not more than ten of us raised our hands. He pointed to me, “What’s your handicap?”

“My best is 18, but that’s at my home course” I answered. He asked where, and I told him, (Arbuckle), and that my dad was the club pro. With that he motioned me over; we walked out in the middle of the lush green football field, leaving the rest of the class on the sidelines.

As he gave me a 9 iron he pointed and said, “The end zone is the green.” Then he tossed a golf ball on the grass. “The goal post is the pin.”

Now I don’t know if you’ve ever played golf, or football for that matter, but your average “well manicured” lawn probably would probably qualify as a decent “fairway”, whereas this overgrown football field would definitely be the “rough” on a golf course.
Here I had this beat up old 9 iron, a wedge would‘ve been the club, and a ball that didn‘t look all that whippy either- what I could see of it!
“Let’s see what you can do,” he challenged," as he backed away towards the crowd.

I squinted at that silvery metal “H” on the goal line (some high schools still have them yet;) about 60-65 yards distant, glinting in the sun on that clear day. My first thought- I can’t take a “full” swing- maybe 3/4 strength.
Then looked down at the ball nestled in the grass, but I can’t let up either, it’s got to be a firm follow through.

While all these thoughts of the upcoming golf shot were demanding priority in my head, niggling for equal time was- Now everybody knows where you’re from BIG MOUTH! The course you play at, who your dad is, and you just made 18 handicap only recently!

“You can take a couple of practice swings if you want,” the instructor offered. So I did. I’m not even sure if the first practice swing grazed the grass. But the second one riffled through it, grazing the ground, cutting a satisfying swath and sending the bladed grasses briefly skyward.

No divots for me! Courteous golfers replace their divots (those big clods that you see on TV;)- I on the other hand found that it was easier to pick the ball clean off the ground with a good stroke of the club- Rather than to hit the ball first, take a divot in front of the ball (the correct way;), walk two- ten paces up, pick-up the divot, return to the "scar", and replace the divot correctly (using a tee- Dad was a greens keeper first;).

Holding the club in my left hand, I placed the club head behind the ball as I stepped up to it. Then my right hand joined my left in the "interlocking" grip.

Exhaled quickly, then filled my lungs with air. Opened up my stance a little, let’s hit it straight! The grass is a little high, exhaled sloooowwwwly, toed the club in a little, the grass is going to catch it and inhaling (sloooowwwwly), taking the club back thinking, Whatever I do, I’ve got to get it in the air, just don’t let me “top the ball.” Keeping my eye focused on the it, Or hit a “worm raker!” pausing at the top of the swing, But don’t make a divot so big it goes further than the ball! then I started the downswing....

Still keeping my eye on the ball, I heard the whoosh of the club coming down, and the grass swished-click!
The ball disappeared- it was airborne!
A few strands of grass blew back towards me as I followed through, and tried to catch a glimpse of it, no divot to speak of; I’d picked it clean off the field! I couldn’t spot the ball; out of the corner of my eye I saw the heads of the crowd turning towards the end zone. You could’ve heard a pin drop.

TONGGGGGGGGGGGGgggggggggggggg........

It hit the crossbar! It had hit the crossbar of the goalpost! "WHOA!" Is the only thing I remember people saying for sure, and I think some people said things like, “Did you see that?” "Unbelievable!" "Awesome" "You got to be kidding me!" and there was some genuine applause (not "golf clapping";)

Then the instructor almost shouted, “you got an “A”, I’ll see you at the end of the semester!” People were patting me on the back, shaking my hand and congratulating me as I walked off the field to the student co-op to relax and play cards. (Another story;)

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Oh yeah, if the goalpost had been the pin, I probably would’ve been 10 or 20 yards over the green! (I don't think it would have bit, much less drawn back after coming out of that rough!;)

Never bettered that 18 handicap, haven't played in years, plan to go soon... Never did get that "A"- was sidetracked by Viet Nam.

Danny, (the best step-father I've ever had), died years later in a small private airplane crash, on his way to play in a golf tournament.

The moral of the story-
Be careful of what you volunteer;
You could get called...
To "walk the talk?"

So keep your head down,
Your mouth shut,
And your eye on the ball;]