I do not play golf. This week in the state where I live, there is a large golfing tournament of some kind. Beers are $2. You can also get egg salad sandwiches. The winner gets a jacket.
People pay exorbitant amounts of money to go stand around and watch this happen.
Today, at my grandparents’ house, this was on television. And at their house, it was technically on an array of televisions, in every room, rivaling an actual sports bar. And apparently, it’s the only thing you aren’t allowed to be smart-assed about.
All of my families are brilliant smart-asses. There is nothing sacred. I’ve been mocked for not having a job (though I have three), having brown hair, having gray hair, wearing pants, wearing a dress, wearing glasses, not wearing glasses … like I said, nothing is sacred.
So, imagine my shock at the table today, when I got the blankest of stares for mocking golf. GOLF ON TELEVISION.
Me: So, it’s expensive, to go?
Cousin: Yes, but it’s so amazing. The grounds are just beautiful. Every blade of grass, every flower, is perfect.
Me: I can see that. From here. On the TV.
Cousin: You don’t get it. You don’t play golf. I bet you hate going to baseball games too.
Me: No, I love going to baseball games. You get to sit down and there’s big pretzels and if you sit in the right part of the ballpark they bring the beers to you.
Cousin: Just, trust me. It’s a lot more fun to play than to watch.
Me: It better be.
My dad has zero sense of humor about it as well. He texted me last week to tell me he was going and I should watch for him on TV. I texted him today to tell him I didn’t see him, but I saw a couple hundred other middle-aged fat guys.
The only thing more boring, I think, than golf on television is tennis on television. Seriously. Nearly 75 years of technological breakthroughs in broadcast television and the best thing they can put on is a bunch of dudes in white on some nice grass smacking balls with things.