Monday, July 6, 2009
Athletic prowess and lack thereof
I consider myself fairly run-of-the-mill when it comes to athletic ability. The only sports I might be considered above-average in would be basketball, but this relies a lot on the level of competition I'm facing and the height of the other player. Normally, I can make sure I'm not embarrassed on the courts. My shot is very streaky, but I always put in full effort on the defensive end, even if my natural skill level isn't great. I played freshmen hoops, but got cut during tryouts from a high school team that wasn't especially good.
Because of all the hours I've logged on the hardwood, I also tend to be passable on the volleyball court. The past couple of Sundays, I've been helping some friends fill out their practice roster, and it's always a lot of fun to me. My lack of height – I'm only about 5'9” on a good day – hurts, since I like to play the front, but I'm a decent setter and I can at least strike well enough to be a decent for a “just for fun” co-ed team. My serving is actually pretty good, because my head smack puts a lot of weird spin on the ball.
From there, things drop off steeply. Back in the day, I was a good Little League player, but my work at the plate always stunk. I'm good in the infield, but even in softball now, I hit for almost all singles. (Ironic, since the “singles only” player with an inflated batting average is severely overrated in conventional baseball, yet that's what I am.) Except for a forgettable half-year playing midget / bantam football and another half-hearted attempt at track, that wraps up my “formal” athletic exploits.
The point of this entry isn't to brag about my (limited) accomplishments, but rather as a launching point to complain about the people who come to the driving range. If you're some fat ass, don't complain that you can't hit the ball 200 yards with our clubs and our balls. (teehee.) Yes, they're both old and crappy, but the spare tire around your gut is the bigger reason why you can't drive the ball with authority.
It annoys me because I have to deal with the complaints. Normally, because I don't want to alienate the customers, I shift the onus on to the town. But honestly, I'm more often thinking, “Why don't you hit the gym before you complain about your shot, jack ass?” If my jumper was off in basketball, I don't normally blame the ball or the rim, but this seems to be standard form with golf.
Sure, there are some fat ass golfers – John Daly – who can manage to make it on the tour, just like David Wells and C.C. Sabathia have managed to carve out impressive baseball careers as plus-sized bastards. Most of us need to get into shape though. And if my measly ass can hit it about 150 yards with the crappy plastic clubs, even though I have no significant golfing experience and little natural strength, then the problem isn't the clubs.