The Double Bogey Golfer

In golf, the beginning of the physical side of the the golf swing is the swing trigger. But in a broader sense, anyone diving into the deep end of the pool that is the game of golf must eventually pay the green fee and head for the first tee. Sure, you can dip your toe into the pool and test the temperature of the water. You can borrow clubs and go to the range. You can take a few lessons. You can practice, practice, practice . . .

But sooner or later, if you want to pursue this grand old game, you must dive into the pool head first. And with rare exception [cough] Tiger Woods [cough], the water will be cold . . . very cold. Sooner or later, you will trek out to your local 18-hole course, scorecard in hand, and record your strokes. All of them. And there will be a lot of strokes to record. The numbers will be high.

Fortunately, the USGA has implemented measures to save your sanity (and the sanity of the foursome behind you). As part of the handicapping process, the USGA dictates that every new golfer, who has not yet established an official USGA handicap through the playing and recording of a minimum number of rounds, is assumed to have the maximum allowable handicap of 36.4 (essentially, double bogey on each of the 18 holes) for purposes of the Equitable Stroke Control calculation. That means that each and every one of us starts our golfing life as a "Double Bogey Golfer". (Well, sort of. Ladies start with a maximum allowable handicap of 40.4. But that messes up my clever little nickname for beginning golfers, so we're just going to disregard that anomaly for now. Mmmkay?)

Ignoring a few half-hearted and ill-fated attempts during my college years, I started my life as a Double Bogey Golfer slightly over a year-and-a-half ago. It all started as a desperate attempt to find a summer "hobby" to distract me from the intense pain caused by the lack of snow in the mountains. You see, "no snow=no snowboarding". (Hello, my name is Eric, and I am a snowboardaholic.) Oh sure, there were the occasional trips to Mt. Hood in the summer to alleviate the withdrawal.

But, truthfully, for a full-blown snow addict like me, that was like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. It was a temporary measure at best. I filled my summers with snowboard websites, gear catalogs, and endless clicks on weather.com for an updated projection for the first snow. But I needed something new. Something for the summer. Something that could keep my mind away from thoughts of frozen, crystalline, water drops until . . . well, until the snow gods saw fit to funnel the cold weather and precipitation into the convergence zone of the Cascade mountains. And it was finally a company golf day that provided just the opportunity I had been waiting for.

With about a week's notice, I spent several hours in the hitting cages of a few local stores demoing the least expensive "box sets" I could find. Somehow, miraculously, I ended up with a serviceable set despite my complete inability to swing them with any precision whatsoever. And off I went to play golf at a local municipal course with several of my colleagues.

Little did I know it at the time, but my foray into golf as a distraction would soon turn into a full blown obsession all of its own. A beautiful, challenging, frustrating, exhilarating obsession. I love the smell of the grass on the first tee . . . I love the range time . . . I love the gear . . . I love The Golf Channel . . . I love the lessons . . . I love the demo days (oh, the demo days!)

Hello, my name is Eric, and I'm a golfaholic.