Well, if it is the first week in April, it must be Masters week! My parents will be glued to their television set, watching the tournament, cheering on Tiger Woods and being full of envy of the fans behind the rope that were lucky enough to get Masters tickets. When I was younger my father took me out on the golf course and tried to teach me how to play golf. He gave me my own set of clubs, and we spent a few hours on the driving range once a week for a couple of months and then he decided it was time to take me out on the local public golf course.

The first game I played was only nine holes, and I was exhausted be the end of the game. We walked the course, and I carried my own clubs. Yes, I mean I really did carry my own clubs. The first couple of holes were better than I had hoped they would be, but I was nowhere close to par. Thankfully I avoided the sand traps and the water hazard, but I really have to chalk that up to blind beginners luck. By the end of the ninth hole, my body was so sore that I was just hitting the ball wildly and although I never ended up in the rough, the ball never went very far down the fairway. More than once I asked my father if I could just forfeit the hole, pick up the ball and call the game over, but he was insistent that I finish the hole. If I recall correctly my score on that hole, which was a Par 3, was a very embarrassing nineteen. From that point on, every time I played golf I insisted on renting a golf cart. I understand that golf is great exercise, but I wanted to survive the game!

Maybe next year I’ll try to go online to a website that sells cheap sports tickets and get my father a ticket to go to the Masters himself so he can be part of the action, instead of watching it on television. I’d love to see the look on his face when he realizes what the ticket is for!