There is a new Superdad versus Supermom challenge in our house – teaching our tween daughter how to play golf.
Some may defer to the more experienced person with the most tournament tags and expensive fancy golf clubs – let’s call him dad. While others may defer to the most patient person even though her time capsule-like golf bag, circa 1993 hasn’t seen the light of day since giving birth to a person of Earth – we’ll call her mom.
Regardless, golf is a great sport that the entire family can participate in together regardless of age or athletic ability, which is a bonus when there is a 40-year age gap between participants. It’s also a sport that can be played throughout a lifetime, unlike gymnastics and cheerleading.
The hardest part of playing golf is learning the course etiquette. Quite frankly, it is very difficult to remember the correct traffic pattern for the cart, acceptable noise level, rules for playing through and even wardrobe restrictions, which thankfully are few on the small public course we play.
Despite all the fanfare and stuffiness, there’s nothing like being outside on a beautiful day and solving life’s problems during a round of golf with your buddies.
To me, it’s amazing that certain individuals have better manners on the golf course than at the dinner table – we’ll call them the family.
The usual act of throwing a crumpled napkin on a dinner plate while screaming, “I’m done” just as mom sits down to eat gives way to “no one leaves the green until we are all done.”
It’s an environment where it’s not just mom and dad calling the shots, but an opportunity for our daughter to offer her insight on form and ask questions like, “Why does daddy keep talking to himself after he hits the ball?” Or, “mommy, you are hunched over like a sunflower – a sad, droopy sunflower.”
It’s also a learn as you go sport. Who knew World War III would start when I accidentally hit my husband’s ball. Titleist 3, 4, 5…does it really matter?
Road rage also gives way to kind gestures of letting faster players move ahead. Flipping birds turn into gentle waves motioning players forward from a dad who is only too proud to boast about his young daughter hitting the green for the first time.
Only to have the dad hit a fantastic shot and absent-mindlessly scream, “Go you @#*$&,” and have to explain golf Tourette’s syndrome to his “sugar and spice and everything nice.”
Patience may have prevailed during this challenge, however, according to our daughter, her ruffled ankle socks brought all the luck to her game.