Things I won't do three times.....And still the story continues

I’m cheap. No, scratch that. I’m actually frugal. I don’t mind spending money. I just don’t like wasting money. I’ll pick up loose change from the street, even the pennies. I return all my bottles and cans. After all, one barrel full of cans is $12.00. On the golf course, I’ll pick up stray golf balls. I’ll use that “ball getter outter” thing to retrieve them from the water. Hey, golf balls are over buck a piece. No sense wasting a dollar if you don’t have to. But there is something I don’t do.

I will never again risk life and limb for a golf ball.

At work, we had a “perk”. That perk was called “Summer Breeze”. Summer breeze basically meant that the office closed at 3:00 on Fridays. The office closed at 3:00 so we could all go golfing (at least in my world anyway). One beautiful sunny summer breezy afternoon, about 10 of us headed over to the golf course. It’s me, my boss, my bosses boss, one of the guys that owns the company, and a handful golfing co-workers. A good time will be had by all. We end up with 2 and ½ foursomes, and I’m teeing off in the ½ a foursome. It’s me and my boss. We tee off last.

I have honors, so I tee it up first. I settle in over the ball. Check the windage, yardage and all other important golfing variables. I make sure the foursome in front of us is out of range. When all the golfing forces in the universe line up correctly, I take my swing. It’s a mighty swing. It was perfect. I heard a loud “thwack” and the ball disappeared. Pleased with my swing, I looked to see my ball in flight. But it wasn’t there. My golfing partner is laughing. I ask if he saw where my ball went and why he was laughing. He pointed to the right, the hard right and almost perpendicular right and said, "look over there, you’ll see it". There were several balls lying around so I asked which was mine. He laughed harder and told me to wait. Several seconds later, I heard a cracking through the trees and saw it. My ball came whistling through the trees and landed about 30 yards away. Apparently my mighty swing resulted in a flight path that took the ball 10 feet forward, 30 yards to the right and about a mile and a half high.

I ask if it’s ok to tee up another ball, I’ll go get the first one when I’m done. My boss says go ahead and tee up, but just leave the other ball where it is. I say “NAH, I can get that”. He says, “Joe, it’s a buck. Leave it”. So after we tee off, I head over to get my first ball. All the while being chided by my partner to just leave it, it’s only a buck. I keep responding that I’m going to go grab it. Why waste the buck?

Now the only thing between me and my $1.00 ball is a gully. A muddy, mucky, spoogish filled gully. It’s only about 4 – 5 feet wide. A little too wide to step across, but not too wide to hop over. I back up a couple of steps so I can get a running start to hop over this gully. All the while my boss is saying things like, “Don’t do it”,” Leave It”, “that’s stupid Joe”, “it’s only a buck”. But I’m looking at my brand new ball, and I know I can go get it. So I run forward to hop over this gully. In actuality, it wasn’t a gully, it was a drainage ditch. And what I thought was an embankment, was really just bent over grass. The real edge of the ditch was maybe a foot behind where I thought it was. Did you ever step off a step you weren’t expecting? It was kind of like that, except I was running and starting to jump. Needless to say, I started to fall. Now all I can see is all the mud, and muck and grossness that is the bottom of this ditch. So with all my might, I hurl myself across the ditch. I land on the other side with a mighty crash. Not my most graceful moment. My boss is on the other side yelling, asking if I’m OK. I say yes, but I’m not. I pick up my ball, now I have to head back. No way am I going to jump again. So I pick a spot to cross. And you know what? There was no mud or muck or spoogish. It was just hard, really dark dirt. All that for nothing. My boss asked me several times if I was OK. I kept telling him yes. When he was confident I was fine, he burst out laughing. He didn’t want to laugh if I was hurt, but when he found I was OK, it was OK to laugh.

But I wasn’t. I sprained an ankle, twisted a knee and broke two ribs. I was covered in dirt and grass stains. This was the first hole. This was my first shot on the first hole. Basically, I had 9 holes to play. And I couldn’t let on that I was hurt. All that pain, all that humiliation and for what? A $1.00 golf ball.

So do I learn? Well, this wouldn’t be on my list of things I won’t do three time if I did.

I’m golfing with my son, one of his friends and the friend’s father. The kids are about 13 years old. We’re having a great day. The kids are having a ball; the dads are having a ball. I’m playing well but Dan the Man is on fire. He’s got the best score going in the foursome.

We reach this 190 yard par 3 and Dan the Man is teeing it up first. He’s carrying a 3 wood with him. I tell him “Dan, that’s too much club”. He responds that he grabbed the wrong club but since he’s got it, he’ll use it. He whacks the ball. And the ball’s got eyes. It’s like it’s following a laser beam. It’s headed straight at the flag. It was a gorgeous shot. But he had too much club. The ball flies over the flag, hits the back of the green once, and bounces into the swamp.

When we get up to the green, I go looking for the ball. Everyone’s telling me to forget it, that I’ll never find it. But as I get to the swamp, I notice there isn’t much water. And there, about 10 feet in are about 50 brand new balls. I asked Dan to go get me the “Ball getter outter”. I go fishing for all these new balls, all the while listening to, “forget it”, “let’s go”, “come on dad” and so on.

I haven’t even reached the first ball yet, when a horse fly lands on me. I brush it off. Then another one lands. I brush that one off too. Then I feel a bite. Then another bite. Then I hear Dan’s voice yelling “DAD, GET OUT OF THERE. THOSE ARE HORNETS!!!!” I came up out of the swamp like my hair was on fire chased by a swarm of really angry hornets. I hadn’t noticed the beach ball sized nest all those balls were lying under. Oops. No wonder nobody had picked them up. Now I’m running around the green like a mad man. I'm Hopping, flailing, yelling, running trying to get away from the hornets.

All in all, I received about 2 dozen stings. And I didn’t get one golf ball.

I no longer go looking for lost golf balls. If I hit one in the woods, sure I’ll go up to the edge and look. If I can lean over and get it, I’ll pick it up. If I have to go in and find it, it’s staying there. I just drop a new ball and play on.

Is a $1.00 golf ball worth two broken ribs, a twisted knee, sprained ankle and a couple of dozen hornet stings? I’m afraid the answer is no. What’s my advice to anyone who thinks it is? Buy cheaper balls.