Men in Search of Balls

Men in search of balls. A plethora of balls. What is it about men and balls? What is the attraction? I am, of course, referring to golf balls, not, the family jewels. There are numerous sports which involve balls. Football, baseball, soccer, tennis and certainly, golf. I, however, would like to declare another sport, the sport of searching for golf balls. An Olympic sport should be instituted for just this adventure. There would need to be rules, of course. Time tables to keep, quantity and quality would be large point categories, as well. Cart speed and passenger safety would come into play as the competition heated up. Immediate disqualifications would be determined by injuries incurred through the competition, such as passenger whiplash or someone being ejected from the golf cart due to unsafe driving over rough wooded terrain. I'm quite certain this sport could spread like wild fire across the nation. Following, you will find one woman's account of a recent trip to the local golf course where two very different games of golf were played. One, the traditional round of 18 hole golf, the other, a dangerous, nail biting, high speed chase in search of balls. This is her story. Names and places have been altered to protect the identity and innocence of those involved.

It all began on a warm summer evening. Calm breezes gently swirled through the kitchen window. The buzzer sounded from the clothes dryer announcing the completion of the latest load of towels. The vacuum cleaner still resting in it's spot in the dining room, poised and ready for use. The smells of summer combined with the chicken baking in the oven filled the air. Children's laughter drifted across the back yard as the woman unloaded the dishwasher. She glanced outside, admiring the energy and excitement her children were experiencing. A pang of longing of days gone by swept over her heart. "Ah, to be young and so full of life", she thought. The sound of the front door brought her back from the brief fantasy, back to her reality. In came the kids toting their father behind them. The look in his eyes told her only one thing. It was a look she'd seen many times before and it sent excitement shivering up her spine. She caught her breath as he leaned into her, gently kissing and whispering in her ear. "Come on, the kids will be fine, let's just do it," he seductively purred. That was the beginning of the end for this woman. Her reserve was washed away and she was being swept up and carried away.....to the golf course.

Instructions were given to the oldest child, the babysitter, for the evening. Dinner was dished up and served, orders and rules were laid out for the youngest and promises of treats were used as positive reinforcement. As the couple made their way to the golf course, visions of the beautiful landscape, the sounds of nature, relaxing conversation and alone time with her husband, cluttered the woman's mind. Long deep breaths of appreciation crept through her body and mind. The stage was set for a beautiful evening and she silently thanked God for presenting her with such a wonderful gift.

The cart was loaded and the couple situated and stocked with tees, bottled water and yes, golf balls. Plenty of golf balls, in the woman's opinion. Her next account of actions began to unravel a horrific tale. "I don't even know who was driving the cart tonight!" she explained. A crazed lunatic drove at top speed screeching down the cart path and headed straight for the woods after the second hole. "What the hell is he doing?" She held onto the cart, bracing her feet against the dash to keep from falling out. "No! Dear God, he's headed for the woods!" She remembered she had not put bug repellent on before they left the house. In Michigan, where they reside, the mosquito size and population can reach enormous size. The mosquito's have been reported to carry away small dogs and cats. There's always a good chance encounter with a snake, as well. Fear shook this woman like no other. The cart continued race at breakneck speed toward the wooded area. The man leaped from the cart and dove into the wooded area, completely unarmed, all in search of balls. He disappeared for, what seemed like, hours. A violent crashing came from within the woods but she could not see her man. Finally, approximately 15 yards ahead of her, the husband emerged. As he climbed back into the cart, his eyes were dilated and glassy. Small twigs stuck in his hat and bites on his face marked his appearance but a euphoric state had claimed his being, as he unloaded his hands and pockets to free the balls he had claimed.

As the evening went on, the couple played golf, the husband disappeared into wooded areas which contained small foot paths of beaten down grass where others have gone in before him. The paths are completely devoid of vegetation because of the buffoons scouring the area for Nike, Callaway and Titleist balls, amongst others. This man may have emerged with 10 balls that evening, but as for the quality of balls he found, there was only one, he admitted was a real prize. So, you may ask, as I did, why go in search of balls? For the sport of it, of course. The hopes of finding that elusive high quality ball and bragging rights is the driving force behind it. After all, the odds are against you finding very many top quality balls so when you do hit the mother load, look out! The average person may pick up a handful of mediocre balls to be used but, in my opinion, anyone that spends top dollar for golf balls is not the same dope that continually shanks it into the woods. It's the guy that's driving it straight down the fairway, taking a leisurely ride, in the cart, with his wife smiling by his side. It's the guy that is enjoying the alone time with his beautiful wife, appreciating a beautiful summer evening and appreciating the beautiful balls he already has.