I’m a bitter golfer

My friend shot a hole in one not too long ago. I wasn’t there. If I had happened to be there I might have strangled him with jealousy.

As self-fancying a golfer as the next, I was shattered when my ‘friend’ posted a picture of himself on the guilty green on my social media instrument of choice. There he was, squatting self-satisfiedly next to the flag, ball nestled comfortably between stick and cup, concrete(ish) evidence that he had guided the little white cherry from club to crevice in one blow. He looked rather pleased with himself, smirking at me through the lense of the camera.

I looked at the photo again. My ‘pal’s’duplicitous, piercing blue eyes are staring holes through my skin and bones and body gunk right to my very soul, where little hands with tinier fingers on the end of his x-ray vision begin tugging it, cajoling it to break into several pieces.

“You won’t be needing this,” say my unnamed ‘friend’s’ vision hands as they pinch and prod my soul into thousands of tiny pieces.

Imagery.

He was club in hand in the photo. Guilty green. Guilty club. The offenders were stacking up, like that RICO case in The Dark Knight.

“Guess what happened?” said the post on my communication device. In case you wanted to know I have many friends on this device, many who I’m sure hate it when I post that I’ve completed another pointless, dull, hopelessly written, horribly misguided blog post.

“I don’t need to guess,” thought I as I stared at the devil-child-man, who will be referred to as Diablo for the rest of the post, who had managed to crush my most recent dream in that one click of his macbook pro trackpad. I couldn’t help but think, too, that the computer that posted that photograph was better than mine, and if it wasn’t better then it was at least smaller; such is the woe. Why, through all this, did Diablo also have to have a better/smaller computer than me?

Diablo had to know when he clicked ‘post’ just how large a chunk of me would die inside when I saw this photo. Just how sadistic is this prick? How sadistic is the demon lord? How long’s a piece of string?

Philosophy.

He knew that golf is our new thing. Sure, he beat me the last time we played by quite a margin, but it’s not like I haven’t beaten him my fair share of times. But to make a hole in one? That’s a once in a lifetime thing. I’m convinced, after seeing this photo, that I will never make one. My ‘friend,’ Diablo, being the blessed one of the two of us, will be the one to make two in his life. All of us are given one, and he will steal mine from me. I’m sure of it.

He’s still on my timeline, taunting me. If you care to look at my online book of faces, you will see him still boring holes in my soul. He is like Sauron, except he has two eyes and a physical form and no ring (yet). So in that way he bears little resemblance to Sauron.

Such is the magnanimity of the situation, I have taken to spending my working days staring at the photo. Start at 9. End at 5. Half an hour for lunch, make the time back if you decide to take longer. It’s my work. My obsession. The bastard hit a hole in one. Maybe if I stare at it long enough the hole in one will be retracted by time itself as reward for my hard work. We all know it was supposed to be mine.

My own. My precious.

I will continue to spend my days trying to conjure voodoo magic and seriously injure/maim the person who made the shot, but I would like to leave one sentiment that’s not bitterness or hatred. While I’m really really jealous of my friend, it’s a pretty amazing thing to happen to a weekend hacker like us. People who don’t play or like golf will never understand.

Well done mate. I’m jealous and I hate you, but well done. Now I’m going to work on my doll…

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3 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Diablo on September 2, 2012 at 9:54 pm

    This is exactly the response I was hoping for when I clicked “post” on your wall all those weeks ago. Makes it all the more sweet. I guess it’s now a lifelong race to see if I do indeed steal your allotted ace… I reckon you’ll get it!

    Reply

  2. Spare a thought for the third playing partner of Diablo and the Author, who regularly falls well behind on the score card. If by some miracle he hits a good shot, it is greeted not with applause or congratulations, but rather roaring laughter at the awkward nature of the swing which produced the shot (just cause were in a bitter mood here). Don’t worry Author, there will always be someone to make you look good, even if there are others taking your hole in 1 glory.

    Reply

  3. Posted by PJE on October 8, 2012 at 3:44 pm

    I thought you meant a good kiwi golfer for sicond…

    Reply

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