Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Creeps of the Week

The first two Legitimate Golf Creep of the Week awards recognized some high-profile douchebaggery. But this week, we train the spotlight on the ordinary folks, the unsung jerks who make golf so miserable at the local level, in our own day-to-day lives.

As part of the LGNYCGT ("Legitimate Golf New York City Golf Tour"), I found myself in the Bronx the other day. A full-write up of the excursion is coming soon but for now I wanted to quickly vent about some of the foul people I had the misfortune of crossing paths with. Originally I thought of just posting this away on some safe, obscure little corner of the internet.

But screw that--I have been working hard to build up this bully pulpit and dammit, why shouldn't I use it to lash out at the people who make me (and all other reasonable people) mad?

So this tale begins on the first hole--I hit a perfectly good sand wedge that landed short of the pin, but because the green was concrete-hard, it bounced clear over and out of play. Pretty odd thing to happen on a hot, humid 90-degree day, but okay whatever, that's another rant for another day. I ended up having to go back and replay the shot, so I told the two guys in my group to putt out, and I'll meet them on the next tee.

As they headed to the 2nd tee I saw a foursome in carts also driving towards the 2nd tee while bypassing the first hole entirely.

Once there, they started to tee off. And when I'd finally gotten there, I saw the two guys in my group just sitting off to the side of the tee box, looking dejected. "What's all this?" I asked them. They didn't know.

I knew if I didn't speak up, we'd be waiting behind the foursome guys all day, so I had to do something. I was in no mood for it, but I approached the offenders and asked what was going on. They explained that there was a big group consisting of ten people, all waiting on the first tee, so the starter had told them to skip the first hole and begin their round on the 2nd.

"Okay," I said, "I can understand that. But did he tell you to cut in front of us?"

"Well no, but when we got here, there was nobody on the tee."

"Yeah, but we were on our way, and we're here now, and now we have to wait behind you?"

"Yeah, but there's like ten people on the first tee."

"YEAH I CAN SEE THAT and I understand why you'd start on the 2nd. But why do we have to now wait on you? How is that right? We've already started our round."

I am clearly agitated at this point, and not going anywhere, so one of the guys offers me an asshole's concession: "Well if you're gonna complain about it, you guys can just tee off then."

Okay, now a few years ago I would've seen red and probably lashed out in an ugly way. But no, not anymore. These days I can't even be bothered. Not going to get baited into some little pussy bickering argument. And so even though I really didn't care for his little passive-aggressive attempt to snipe at me, I glossed right over it, took his concession and ran. "Fine--we will. Thanks." Even though he got his little bitchy remark in, in my mind I've won.

Even then my group needed some prodding, but I got them to tee off and thanks entirely to me our group was spared from having to wait behind that foursome all day.

So first of all I want to blast, obviously, the guys who tried to cut in front. You are assholes for trying to cut in line, and then for trying to feign ignorance, and then for not being men and figuring out that you should maybe defer to the group who was about to tee off on that hole.

Now, let's blast the guys in my own group. These were guys older than me, Bronx natives, so this was their turf in a sense. And yet they just sat there like a couple of pussies, too meek and passive to even ask why this group was attempting to cut in front of us. They would've just let those guys walk all over them if I hadn't stepped up. When I had originally asked what was going on one of them just mumbled "That's the Bronx for ya."

That's the Bronx? Where middle-aged men sit by passively and let jerkoffs cut in front of them in line for no good reason? WTF. If you are a middle-aged man from the Bronx, and you find yourself depending on some weirdo blogger guy from Manhattan who barely weighs 160 pounds to stand up for you, you got issues. You need to grow some balls and take some ownership in what's going on out there and don't just let people walk all over you.

This is how six-hour rounds happen by the way. This is why we as a sport now find ourselves entangled in this slow play mess. It has evolved this way because everyone kind of stands around looking at each other, nobody willing to step up and speak up on behalf of what is right.

That's not the only beef I had with these guys by the way. They were nice and friendly and all, but on the back nine they started seriously dragging, to the point where it made me mad. I found myself constantly pushing forward just so we as a group could stay ahead of the FOUR people behind us. There were a couple of times I considered ditching them altogether; believe me I would've if I'd had the space.

The 9th and 10th holes on this course are kind of far apart, joined by a secluded, wooded trail. Those guys were somehow delayed by a few minutes in joining me on the 10th tee. WTF. Then I got a big whiff of what they'd been doing back there. Getting high on the course is fine with me, but when you start moving like molasses and getting all reflective on everyone and taking twice as long to do everything as you did before you got high, you are no longer cool with me.

So this week, in recognition of all the rudeness, the passive-aggression, the straight-up passivity and lack of backbone, not to mention the dragging slow play, here are your Creeps of the Weeks--the golfers of the Bronx. Thanks for nothing jerkoffs.


  1. My week, possibly even month, is now complete. Thank you.

    And while we are on the subject, well done during the face off with the jerks who tried to cut-in. This occurs all too often and, like you, I create a scene when someone tries to pull the same thing on me.

    My favorite "tee jumping" moment was when a foursome in carts rolled up to the 10th tee while I was walking off the 9th green. They were milling around and pulling clubs. I walked on to the tee, put my ball on a peg, teed off, grabbed the tee, shouldered my bag and walked up the 10th fairway. Never said a word to them or looked at them. Just pretended they weren't there. Of course, I was listening intently for the sound of a ball being teed off at my head but they must have decided to wait.

    1. Thanks Brian. And that is a stupendous tale. I am floored by it. I hope to do the same thing someday. Your low tolerance for bullshit and fearlessness in the face of it is an example to us all. Now only a real, actual psychopath would try and hit someone with a shot golf ball, but you just never know. That took some real nerve.

    2. Nerve? No, just a bit of random insanity. I am generally a calm person but sometimes situations just reach the tipping point and one has to take a stand. I want to collect Social Security some day so I don't regularly look to get in harm's way. No reason to be the subject of a headline, "Senior Golfer Beaten by Enraged Foursome."

  2. Replies
    1. Buttons are for lab rats my friend. A simple 'huzzah' will do. In any case, thank you!


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