Why I hate golf

May 29

My good friend I-man keeps trying to get me interested in playing golf. Now he’s trying to get my son, his godson, to play. I don’t have the heart to tell him how much I hate the sport.
Let me count the ways:
Because it is a Republican sport, a rich man’s sport, a wasteful sport, the sport of someone who would heedlessly impose himself on the environment. I hate it for moral reasons, as some people hate eating meat. I grew up across from a golf course, so I knew it sort of innocently. A nice course but not exclusive—not at that time. By now it has no doubt become so, a gated community. But then it was open for the neighborhood kids to crawl. Nobody chased us, or cared that we were there. Try cutting across a golf course today, to get here or there. Or sneaking there at night to have sex. They’ll sic the dogs on you.
It takes so much water, so many chemicals, so much money, to tame a place for golf. It’s an obscenity. Yet I met a man who designs courses, a nice and down-to-earth guy, a Bizup.
I hate it for the same reason I hate ice-skating. You’ve got to pay every time you do it, for God’s sake!
I can appreciate the skill required, the thrill of hitting well, the addictive nature of it. The whole being outdoors bit. But the expense!