On The Tee: Peters Single (May 16, 2010)

I am a golfer.   

I'm not very good, but I'm not very bad either, which I suppose is saying something. I am an average golfer, equally capable of crisp irons and skulled wedges. As such, I feel comfortable playing with all types of other golfers, knowing that I likely won't slow down better players, nor will I lose my patience with all but the worst hackers and duffers. 

Often, I play alongside people I know in a pre-ordained foursome comprised of friends and family.  But just as often, II head to courses across this nation alone, a "single" in golf parlance, and have my playing partners chosen by fate, timing, and the whims of a golf shop starter who looks down his ledger and looks for open slots to fill.

I've spent dozens of days on the course observing wonderful people with wretched swings, watching them post scores that resemble the weigh-in for a junior welterweight fighter. I've played alongside miserable sons-of-bitches who play the game like self-loathing poets, creating beauty out of shaped shots and elegant backspin, only to tear apart their masterpiece if you dare flatter them.

Most of all, what I've learned is that when you play golf as a single, you tend to remember the characters you played with long after the actual score you shot has disappeared into a scorecard-choked pocket in your golf bag. For years, I've toyed with the idea of profiling my rounds as an unplanned playing partner, painting portraits of the strangers I meet for a span of four or five hours at a time. 

After addressing the ball for far too long, this is my first swing at it.