During today’s sermon, my pastor took a detour into a discussion of the only part of golf in which he claims expertise. He admits to excellence at yelling fore, because he’s never hit the ball where he intended. He’s also discovered that the way to tell if someone is a golfer is to yell “fore!” at a non-golfing time and place. If the person in question ducks and covers rather than looking around, they’re a golfer.
I suspect his claim of golfing incompetence is a bit of an exaggeration, because he’s a master of self-deprecating humor in the service of making a point and he’s a pretty athletic guy. But he did give me an idea for how to find fellow golfers when I need a game.
I’ve lived in 11 different cities and I’ve had to find new golf partners in each one. Sometimes it’s been easy, and at other times it’s been hard. I don’t have plans to move again, but if I do, I think I’ll just walk out into crowds and yell “fore!” I’ll either get arrested or I’ll find other golfers.
Of course, the ones I find are unlikely to want to play with me. Once I get that kink in the system worked out, I’ll be good to go.