Published June 15, 2007
Today, I'm going to write about golf in Germany. OK, you might be asking yourselves, is GOLF really news and information for the Asian American community? Well, 851 thousand AA golfers will no doubt think it is, and for the rest of you - well, read on anyway.
Here in Germany, spring is in the air. The weather is finally starting to turn for the better: the rain isn't so insistent, birds are coming out of their hiding places and the sun is trying to peek through. And that means it's time to take out those golf clubs and get out on the course.
However, this being Germany, that's easier said than done. Because Germans really take their sports seriously. In order to play here, you first have to take hours of lessons with a professional trainer, then pass a written and oral test. After that, you get your license, but you still have to join a golf club in order to play. It takes a lot of time and effort, but a few years ago I decided to take up the challenge.
I had barely even watched the game before, but my husband was spending a lot of time on the golf course and I was tired of being left at home. So I decided to spend my free days taking lessons, going to the driving range, reading up on golf rules and shopping for all those cute accessories that go with the game like little club covers with elephant heads on them.
When I first started to practice, no one told me how hard it would be to hit a non-moving object placed directly before my very own feet. "Swoosh - swoosh": that was my club swinging through the air after not making contact with the ball. All around me, I heard: "swoosh, whack! - swoosh, whack"! But my efforts all ended only with a "swoosh".
Not to worry, not to worry, said my husband with encouragement. It's like that for all beginners! So I persisted in going to the driving range on most weekends with my by then very large collection of golf paraphernalia. I had a battery driven golf trolley, striped Capri pants, brilliantly colored caps, spiffy white golf shoes, polished clubs and by now a whole zoo of club covers: Mr. Elephant, Miss Panda and Baby Piggy were my trusty companions.
After about a year, I could proudly say that I was hitting most of my balls. I had finally graduated to a "whack"! And so, after taking my final test, successfully earning my golf license (the bribes to my golf instructor were truly very, very small), and joining a club, I was ready for my first round of golf!
Whoever says golf is not a sport has just never played it. I was prepared for the big day with a thermos of coffee, a large sandwich, candy bars, a bottle of water, an apple, Mr. Elephant, Miss Panda and Baby Piggy. But I never had a chance to enjoy any of those. As it turns out, golf is a never-ending race to keep up with the players in front of you and avoid getting hit from the players behind. If your ball keeps on losing itself in some tall grass, as mine had an odd tendency to do, you spend the entire game running. Running into the shrubbery to find your ball, running to keep up, running to avoid getting hit, running to make sure you haven't hit anyone, running to find your ball again and running to make sure your electric trolley doesn't speed away with your bag after you've set it to automatic.
My day went like this: Mr. Elephant got lost on the second hole, Miss Panda somewhere around the 8th and Baby Piggy got stuffed into the bag at the 10th in order to keep him from becoming an orphan. When we were done I took toll. Besides my animal friends I had lost six balls, a bottle of water, four pounds and the patience of my husband. And I learned that my license didn't help me one bit out there on the course. A hard hat would have made more sense.
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