If the golf ball falls in the lake, does anybody care.


My good friend, John and I planned a golf game on the weekend. Thats no special deal considering the bevy of weekend golfers, except for the fact that John absolutely refuses to join the weekend hordes of golfers that infest the popular links. Well, much to my surprise, he agreed to come down from his historically recognized home in Dresden and share a game with me on Saturday.

I, quite frankly, agree with John's seemingly phobic aversion to standing in line at tee-boxes and watch fellow hackers divot and flop and muff shots well witnessed by a gallery of Mulligan holding, white shoe wearing, designer club toting weekend golfers.

We used to take one evening a week to do nine holes before John retired and we would alternate between his home course in Chatham and my favourite course in Lasalle. The only condition was, that, the one evening was never during the weekend to spare the humiliation of standing in, what was once a corn field or a pasture or a bush, and whack golf balls into all sorts of unseemingly directions in front of an audience. It was not that we were unsociable golfers, many was the time we would invite some lone singles or doubles to join us and share a few steps tracing down the shots with new found ball strikers, making intros and brief bios while strolling to the next phase of the elusive par, but the repusive images of packed urban courses was never a comfort for either of us.

Nevertheless, I invited him for a weekend golf game to a little course I came across in Oxley. Who would have imagined we would have the luxury of playing 18 holes on a Saturday morning without once waiting for a lined up tee-box. Oxley Beach Golf Course is Canada's southern most golf course and is a real jewel "fore" the golf officianodo who likes to mix a small serving of Zen into his weekend ball striking.

I dont think he will mind listening to the sound of one club swooshing when I call him up next weekend. Besides he won, but does anybody care.

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