Golf: Stuffy, Elitist, Unwelcoming, and Exclusive? Still?!
By Matty K.
September 8th, 2022
The game of Golf is entirely frustrating, takes up the better part of the day, costs the player a fortune for decent equipment, then more for every round played, and it demands years of consistent practice in pursuit of even a modicum of proficiency. Winston Churchill said it better in his oft quoted bit of wit on the subject, “golf is a game whose aim is to hit a very small ball into an even smaller hole, with weapons singularly ill-designed for the purpose.” How then, I ask, is golf simultaneously far too exclusive and yet in need of more players from generations Y and Z?
It’s absolutely god damn awesome is why!
Golf needs only a re-fresh from some traditionally unwelcome players to give it the kick in the plaid plants that can bring the game to its next logical level of greatness. Our current discussions about golf are limited by tradition. The cornerstone tradition, the one almost synonymous with the game, is etiquette. Decades of celebrating the game of golf through every means possible, from analysis of player behaviors during great and unfortunate rounds to lighthearted and brilliant lampooning, focus on the presence or the absence of etiquette. The word is defined as, “the customary code of polite behavior in society or among members of a particular profession or group.”
Breaches of etiquette, be they legendary blow ups or just typical Saturday behavior at a resort course, like John Daly throwing his clubs, a player hitting into the group in front of them, Rory Sabbatini’s outbursts, interrupting a player’s back swing with mindless chatter, Spencer Levin drop kicking his hat, or a slow pace of play are simultaneously unforgivable and inherent in the game of golf. Films that glorify breaches of etiquette like Caddyshack (1980), Tin Cup (1996), and Happy Gilmore (1996) glorify the perturbation of the status quo, and they will live on forever, getting referenced and quoted hundreds of times a day at every course in the world for time immemorial.
Plenty of great pieces have been written about relaxing the stuffiness of the golf world. But there is also a need to maintain certain elements of tradition that make golf what it is. Some amount of pomp and circumstance upon arriving to the clubhouse must be sustained to ensure that one’s feelings before a round of golf amount to more than those felt before a round of horseshoes, billiards, or darts.
Despite grumblings about shirts having to be tucked in, I believe in maintaining some standards of slightly formal attire. I may play thirty-six holes of frisbee golf in a sleeveless shirt, short shorts, and a backwards hat, but that is the frisbee golf scene. My uniform for slinging discs is absolutely appropriate for a day in the woods with my wilder group of friends. However, before a round of golf-course golf, when I role up to the clubhouse, after I nod pleasantly at the cart guys who work their tails off from pre-dawn to post-sunset, I respect my compulsion to re-tuck my shirt, adjust my belt, and turn my hat forwards. Even when my wild friends hit the links with me, they tuck, they straighten, and they comport, and they do so for me and out of respect for the current golf etiquette status quo. We are not clad in hundred-dollar pro shop fashions, but our hand-me-down dad-shirts convey our passion for the game and how serious we intend to take our time on the course.
Where many welcome the era of the golf hoodie, I suggest we maintain our value for presentation just a little longer by proceeding with caution. Of course, we mustn’t discourage players from taking up the sport due to a lack of attire, but venture into any secondhand store, you will find polos are in abundant supply, and often marked at the same price as plain white pocket tee shirts. An onus must be placed on manufacturers as well. Why can’t companies like Adidas make a $10 polo to be sold in every golf shop in the country? Perhaps Carhart will make a polo that breathes and stays tucked in during a long round. My concern, should we go the other way, and I am aware of how get-off-my-lawn this is about to sound, the same lack of care and consideration for personal attire and appropriate comportment that I see in the aisles of Walmart will become a presence on the golf course. (I do not wish to deride Walmart, or their shoppers, for being anything but unconcerned with the way attire effects perception.)
When I see a person out in public in big, floppy, plaid pajamas, I do not think that they have pressing matters to attend to which they will be shortly pursuing with determination and grit. Were I a cart guy, I would not interpret incoming torn jeans and a tank top as the source of a generous gratuity. If I am working my putter at the practice green and a couple, who couldn’t be bothered to change out of their oversized gray hoodies and Crocs, pulls up in a cart, I am going to hope to the golf gods that I am not playing behind them. The reason for these feelings and impressions are not classist, They are based on experiences of daily life and empirical observations of specific settings and some of the people who inhabit them. I would not choose to hike, ski, cycle, or go backpacking with them either as I take those undertakings seriously and my enjoyment of them is impacted by my companionship.
Nobody fret, there are commonalities here too. Take attire out of the equation for right now (we will get back to it shortly when we present compromises and solutions). My calloused buddies in the trades, my pals seated in gaming chairs, my surf and snowboard bros, my gal pals who love Lizzo but get down with classic horror movies too, all seek good times with good feels. The course provides the setting, the cooler contains the fuel, the outdoor scene welcomes the indulgence in sins frowned upon by the indoor world, and the distance between groups inherent in pace and space allows for the moderate, bumping of good tunes.
Instead of the golf course acting as a barrier between differing groups, it should be a nurturing place to congregate. If we gather with the shared goal of hitting the ball from eighteen different tees into eighteen different holes, the players already have a strange and ceremonial four-hour pursuit in common. If we create the space for a Travis Matthews Polo to swing right beside a loud Hawaiian shirt, who tees off just before an ironically warn Insane Clown Posse concert tee, who is followed by a sleeveless workout tank, then we approach having more in common than that which sets us apart.
Our gatherings at the first tee, our stretches, our conversations, and our pre-shot-routines are all so strange and unique, an alien observer, one unfamiliar with the game of golf, would surely perceive our behavior as a sacred act and one focused on accomplishing a greater end than just hitting the ball fewer times than the next golfer. This observer would see the pains each player goes through when they miss a green or skull a chip shot. They would think, “This is a march of penance, a reenactment of heroic trials, somehow appeasing the golf gods through each player’s unique journey from tee to fairway, to rough, then back to fairway, and finally to the green. The elation experienced by all good-hearted participants when a forty-foot birdie is sunk with a singularly perfect putting stroke creates an emotional eruption that even the old golf gods hear and revel in from their grassy halls. The inhabitants of this material plane must play the links, once a week if possible. They must bond over great success and painful failure. They must repeat their exposure to the frustrations of this royal and ancient game for hours, lest the people become rigid and uncompromising, the gods disappointed, and the fate of the land shall forever fall into passive aggressive exclusion.
I say, play on golfers, do it with openness and purity, do it to appease the gods, and do it to remain a community who battles on, in togetherness, past bunkers and hazards, fescue and forest, hooks and slices. It isn’t that yet. But we can make it so by making inclusivity the goal we achieve by toning down rigid stuffiness.
When I explain to some of my hardcore outdoor buddies that I’ve recently started to take golf seriously, every one of them deride me as a square for doing so. But then I break it down for them: I carry a bag, not unlike backpacking, as I walk around a beautiful outdoor park, not unlike day hiking, all the while chasing a little round ball, not unlike kicking a pebble down a mountain path, and every so often I come upon a target, I focus extra hard, experience a moment of purest elation or most crushing disappointment (depending on the success of my efforts) and then on I go. I am enjoying my time in nature, spaced out from other people, and I do this for hours and hours at a time. Everybody leaves me alone; I get to be in my own world. Then, as a matter of tradition, when I am all done, I drink and eat and talk about what I’ve just experienced with a bunch of people who enjoyed the same thing, at the same time, but never bothered me for a second, nor I them!
When the outdoor shred and rec. world learns that golf is softening its rigidity, they will wander from between the trees. They will be barefooted with sticks in their hair. A cloud of reefer smoke will be exhaled, a bandana will be adjusted, sunglasses, hanging from a string around their neck will be placed back over eyes closed by the sun, and in one perfect moment, on some far-off fairway, a hiker will approach a golfer. A slow note from a single violin will play in the distance, the camera will zoom out, and at center frame a seven-iron will be handed from a tucked in chap to a far-out fella. No words will be spoken as the violin is joined by the rest of the symphony. The hiker will take their stance over the ball, iron in hand. The alignment will be perfect, the aim true, and the swing executed with grace and full body balance. With the club’s crack as it impacts the ball the music will stop. The ball flight will be spectacular. One hundred sixty yards away the ball will land and gain another thirty yards as it rolls along the fairway and up the front of the green. As the two shake hands, the hikers’ tattoos ripple with the flexion of their muscled arms, sinewy, and tan. The golfer will tip their cap, readjust their belt, and gesture that their golf clubs are now to be shared. They will hand over a brand-new Callaway Chrome Soft from a fresh sleeve. The links will be enjoyed by two very different people that day and each will return to their circles and explain the beauty and success of their time together.
A buddy said, after waiting for me to finish my fantasy, “-beers okay out there?” I responded with sincerity, “there is a person driving a little cart all day long out there, and their whole job is to bring you drinks, and yes, they often have chips and hotdogs too.”
Speechless consideration…
“They cool with a little smoke out there where you golf?” a stout 5.14 climber with a penchant for astrophysics asked.
“Dude,” I replied, “everybody out there is smoking something.”
Compromises and solutions:
Do polo shirts have to be uptight? When will the companies that make Baja hoodies and tie dye organic cottons start targeting the golf scene? I guess the answer is obvious, if golfers won’t browse head shops, head shops won’t start slinging collars. Even the classic golfer attire seems more fun than the current one. A big soft Lebowski sweater and plaid pants are the attire of a scene I want to be a part of. I submit, with all seriousness, that it is finally time to eliminate the ultra-dad-fashion that is the short-sleeved windbreaker. If wind and light rain are the concerns, as they are in dozens of other outdoor activities, perhaps we can get a biking or hiking company on board to design a super comfy anorak with some swing gussets and even a stash pocket. -Last thought on compromises, the golf hoodie is cool. It is functional, but it must not be a descent down the slippery slope toward sloppiness. I say wear it at the tee box, but where it fitted appropriately, wear hoodies specifically made by golf companies for golf, and wear them with other athletically fitting bottoms, headwear, and footwear. This advice serves to steady the already rocked etiquette boat. On a practical note, swinging a club is hard enough, don’t try to do it in a poncho sized hoody just because you finally can.
This brings me to my last point, the time has come for us to admit, calmly, but in unison, that golf is one of the stoner-est sports there is. I’m not talking about the top 200 golfers in the world competing to make history. I’m talking about the rest of us for whom it is a badass game played outside in our free time. Golf shoes are light and flexible, golf pants are super soft, golf shirts are fashionable and give me a sort of private-school feel on a public-school budget. There are no helmets, no pads, no contact, it’s just comfy clothes, curated outdoor space, wildlife everywhere, and swinging a club at a ball for an activity.
I love setting up my bag and my cart for the day. (That’s right, should you prefer, golf is a sport played from a go cart with a roof and cup holders.) Once I’m dressed super comfortably and have arrived at my tee time, all I need do is pull my super cool Woode 8 Hybrid bag from Ogio out of my truck, grab my Sin Bag and cooler, and make my way to the first cart guy. I slap a tenner into his or her hand and set to work setting up my golf cart for the day. I covered my sin bag in another piece but given our specific point to make here, let’s hit the high points again.
Sin Bag: Bluetooth speaker, check. A half dozen Crawl Bars for energy and maintained focus, check. My beloved High Camp Flask Firelight 375 filled with top shelf Mezcal, check. My notebook for recording the deep thoughts that often find their way into these pieces, check. Wad of $5 and $10 bills for tipping cart guys, cart girls, servers, bartenders, the range guy, the starter, and everybody else who works day in and day out to make my experience on the course an awesome one, check! I bring a couple good cigars, a lighter, and a box of wooden matches along with a golf cart cigar clip, these things are nice to indulge in on the course, and even more fun to share with my grateful golf buddies. Finally, I may have a vape pen, a bag of gummies, a pre-rolled joint, or a combination of the three. It’s a Sin Bag, it contains all the additional items in which one can semi-openly indulge while on the course. Keeping in mind, a round at my home course is about four hours and twenty minutes, it is crucial that one comes well supplied for the long haul.
So, my cart is set up. My cooler clips to the side, so that’s a space saver, and my golf bag is strapped to the back. I have the standard accoutrements in my golf bag pockets. My Bose cart speaker is bumping Sam Cooke. I love my rain gloves. I’ve got a pretty cool umbrella. I bring along an extra layer and a beanie, just in case. My extra balls and tees (especially a handful of those great little par three tees) and my range finder (with extra battery) are good to go. Now my cart is set up like a self-contained exploration shuttle, ready for a half day expedition. I’ve got an extra towel hanging from the cart in addition to one on my bag and a hand towel I keep with my flask for messy cocktail making. I have warmth, I have shelter from my umbrella and an old green rain jacket, I usually bring a bunch of water and always bring snacks. I am self-reliant and setting out for the driving range to loosen up the back muscles before the round of my life. Because every round I get to go out and play is going to be the round of my life (or its going to be a hell of a learning experience) I make sure to keep those positive vibes curled up inside me through every swing.
I believe in stretching as much as I believe in imbibing. It’s at the range, early in the morning, when I’m completely alone save for a raven half-greeting me while furtively hopping along the tree line, that I get in the zone. Sometimes I’ll encounter geese as they side eye me from the neighboring eighteenth fairway. I hit the pen or dugout or pipe and meditate on the fortunate series of events that lead to me being able to indulge in almost five full hours of outdoor recreation. I slowly twist my back while taking deep breaths.
I read somewhere that Ben Hogan warmed up with only twenty-five balls. His advice was to hit slow, think about each shot after you hit it, consider what happened, don’t just rush on to the next ball. I do this. I breathe. I fire two seven-irons and they fly sweetly, each dropping within ten yards of the one hundred-fifty-yard marker. I hold the seven-iron head up to my eye level; I wipe away the grass and mud. I give the club my gratitude for being reliable and steadfast—no matter what I ask of it. I replace it in my bag before pulling out my four-hybrid.
Goals provide clarity, they provide motivation, and they provide a path to move forward. We have to know where we’re going before we get there.
-Rick Sessinghaus
I work through my bag. The course is still silent. The dew on the grass, the nip in the air, these things remind me that I am here as much for the scenery as I am for the game. Without thinking about it, I am aware that the fairways will offer more roll, thusly more distance as the dew evaporates. I know the greens will start out mercifully slow until the moisture leaves them as the sunshine spreads out across the course. I remind myself that this game is one that I play in the company of others, but I compete only with myself.
Hiking, mountaineering, and backpacking are similar to golf in this manner of internal competition. When I am out exploring the backcountry, I do it with the same mindful way of taking in my surroundings, observing obstacles, and reminding myself that this is exactly what I want to be doing in this moment and that I am thankful that any of this is possible. I may have a few backpackers “with” me. They are in my group, so much that we started from the same location, share a destination, and started our adventure around the same time. I am not competing with them; we are not timing our adventure. I am keenly aware, however, that I am playing this game of voluntary hardship with myself. My endurance is up against nobody else’s endurance. I judge my own stamina and I award bonus points (in my mind) for style, outlook, and attitude. I take a hit, then up the mountain I go.
“Don’t let your golf influence your attitude; let your attitude influence your golf.”
- Rory McIlroy
We will round up a bunch of backpackers, ones who never golfed a swing in their lives. We remind them to maintain mental focus over four plus hours, as they often do in their own chosen form of outdoor recreation. We will tell them they can smoke weed and eat snacks and overall indulge however they choose. Reminding them that there is more of a goal than simple completion at stake here, that we have to get this little ball into eighteen little cups along the way. They will likely recall kicking that pebble for two miles down a rail trail with great success and proceed toward the tee box with that much more determination. It would be when we remind them that their hundred-dollar hiking shorts are okay, but not ideally fashionable, that they should probably have a collar on their hundred fifty-dollar merino hiking top, and oh, you should really tuck it in. “But I’ve climbed eight peaks with this shirt uncollared and untucked!” they will shout. We will look down at their bare feet, our gaze will pass over the hiker’s chiseled calves, then our eyes will rise to meet theirs, “You’ll want to wear that ballcap forward too—then you can hit the ball…”
“Just kidding! It’s a Tuesday afternoon and the times they are a changin’!” we’ll all laugh as our dirtbagging barefoot round begins with raucous laughter. As it should.
Naturally the adversity encountered on a summit in high winds is far more challenging than the observation of etiquette. Most of my adventure pals would laugh aloud at these arbitrary rules of fashion, roll a one handed joint, crack a beer, and then put their mountaineer’s focus into a three hundred yard drive that lands center fairway. If we could find a way to maintain the traditions of golf that do not exclude, the ones that do not seem arbitrary, perhaps we could get the mountain folk to join us on the links. With them would come their dedication to surmounting challenges, their love of the outdoors, and their ability to bring multiple generations on long term outings with no complaints about weather or discomfort. These are the people who will support local courses, shop at local pro shops, and play during inclement weather when the tee sheet empties, and revenue takes a dive. Now imagine if you offered barefoot golf to these folks and suspended the dress code for a day or during afternoon play, the music of the Wailers could be heard from every hole, and not a scrap of micro trash would remain on the course once they had all finished their rounds. -also, the nineteenth hole would sell out of Heady Topper and All Day IPA every day.
“Be Serene. Go with what you get.”
-Tom Watson
The world of golf, one that I inhabit, passionately, for over one hundred rounds a season and maybe thirty simulator rounds during the ski season, is one of friendly competition, outdoor recreation and exercise, and employment for everyone from the pro and the director to the grounds team and the retail folks. Beyond the course and the nineteenth hole there is the driving range, a practice green, there can be a putting course, a par three course, a simulator, outdoor seating areas with cozy fire pits, patios for private events, and offerings of lessons, kids’ groups, teen nights, school programs, and corporate retreats. The world, the industry, the space, and the vibe that is golf can be an ultra-positive one. When some of the elitist and exclusive walls come down and some of the mind expanding, body relaxing, appetite stimulating, joy inspiring, substances (that are already enjoyed in a clandestine manner across every golf course that I have ever played) gets accepted by the powers that be, everything will change for the better. The people who feel shunned and rejected by the clubhouse vibes, by the fashion standards, and by the exclusivity that is the game in its current form, will arrive hesitantly, but once they are welcomed, after they’ve had their first round, these athletes of the woods will come to love the athletes of the links.
Bonding will occur in the outdoors, as is inevitable. Challenges will be made and accepted. The positive traditions, like having the honor to swing next, replacing somebody’s divot who is already off to pursue their next shot, and the doffing of one’s cap and the shaking of hands to state that our time together was fair and valued, will be shared, and will spread throughout other recreation populations. The golf courses that do this right and do this soon will be the ones that celebrate diversity, that respect social differences, that grow to meet the world as its cultures expand and blend and embrace each other. After all, it’s only a game, it would be best if we learn to play it with each other if we want to keep playing at all.
It’s absolutely god damn awesome is why!
Golf needs only a re-fresh from some traditionally unwelcome players to give it the kick in the plaid plants that can bring the game to its next logical level of greatness. Our current discussions about golf are limited by tradition. The cornerstone tradition, the one almost synonymous with the game, is etiquette. Decades of celebrating the game of golf through every means possible, from analysis of player behaviors during great and unfortunate rounds to lighthearted and brilliant lampooning, focus on the presence or the absence of etiquette. The word is defined as, “the customary code of polite behavior in society or among members of a particular profession or group.”
Breaches of etiquette, be they legendary blow ups or just typical Saturday behavior at a resort course, like John Daly throwing his clubs, a player hitting into the group in front of them, Rory Sabbatini’s outbursts, interrupting a player’s back swing with mindless chatter, Spencer Levin drop kicking his hat, or a slow pace of play are simultaneously unforgivable and inherent in the game of golf. Films that glorify breaches of etiquette like Caddyshack (1980), Tin Cup (1996), and Happy Gilmore (1996) glorify the perturbation of the status quo, and they will live on forever, getting referenced and quoted hundreds of times a day at every course in the world for time immemorial.
Plenty of great pieces have been written about relaxing the stuffiness of the golf world. But there is also a need to maintain certain elements of tradition that make golf what it is. Some amount of pomp and circumstance upon arriving to the clubhouse must be sustained to ensure that one’s feelings before a round of golf amount to more than those felt before a round of horseshoes, billiards, or darts.
Despite grumblings about shirts having to be tucked in, I believe in maintaining some standards of slightly formal attire. I may play thirty-six holes of frisbee golf in a sleeveless shirt, short shorts, and a backwards hat, but that is the frisbee golf scene. My uniform for slinging discs is absolutely appropriate for a day in the woods with my wilder group of friends. However, before a round of golf-course golf, when I role up to the clubhouse, after I nod pleasantly at the cart guys who work their tails off from pre-dawn to post-sunset, I respect my compulsion to re-tuck my shirt, adjust my belt, and turn my hat forwards. Even when my wild friends hit the links with me, they tuck, they straighten, and they comport, and they do so for me and out of respect for the current golf etiquette status quo. We are not clad in hundred-dollar pro shop fashions, but our hand-me-down dad-shirts convey our passion for the game and how serious we intend to take our time on the course.
Where many welcome the era of the golf hoodie, I suggest we maintain our value for presentation just a little longer by proceeding with caution. Of course, we mustn’t discourage players from taking up the sport due to a lack of attire, but venture into any secondhand store, you will find polos are in abundant supply, and often marked at the same price as plain white pocket tee shirts. An onus must be placed on manufacturers as well. Why can’t companies like Adidas make a $10 polo to be sold in every golf shop in the country? Perhaps Carhart will make a polo that breathes and stays tucked in during a long round. My concern, should we go the other way, and I am aware of how get-off-my-lawn this is about to sound, the same lack of care and consideration for personal attire and appropriate comportment that I see in the aisles of Walmart will become a presence on the golf course. (I do not wish to deride Walmart, or their shoppers, for being anything but unconcerned with the way attire effects perception.)
When I see a person out in public in big, floppy, plaid pajamas, I do not think that they have pressing matters to attend to which they will be shortly pursuing with determination and grit. Were I a cart guy, I would not interpret incoming torn jeans and a tank top as the source of a generous gratuity. If I am working my putter at the practice green and a couple, who couldn’t be bothered to change out of their oversized gray hoodies and Crocs, pulls up in a cart, I am going to hope to the golf gods that I am not playing behind them. The reason for these feelings and impressions are not classist, They are based on experiences of daily life and empirical observations of specific settings and some of the people who inhabit them. I would not choose to hike, ski, cycle, or go backpacking with them either as I take those undertakings seriously and my enjoyment of them is impacted by my companionship.
Nobody fret, there are commonalities here too. Take attire out of the equation for right now (we will get back to it shortly when we present compromises and solutions). My calloused buddies in the trades, my pals seated in gaming chairs, my surf and snowboard bros, my gal pals who love Lizzo but get down with classic horror movies too, all seek good times with good feels. The course provides the setting, the cooler contains the fuel, the outdoor scene welcomes the indulgence in sins frowned upon by the indoor world, and the distance between groups inherent in pace and space allows for the moderate, bumping of good tunes.
Instead of the golf course acting as a barrier between differing groups, it should be a nurturing place to congregate. If we gather with the shared goal of hitting the ball from eighteen different tees into eighteen different holes, the players already have a strange and ceremonial four-hour pursuit in common. If we create the space for a Travis Matthews Polo to swing right beside a loud Hawaiian shirt, who tees off just before an ironically warn Insane Clown Posse concert tee, who is followed by a sleeveless workout tank, then we approach having more in common than that which sets us apart.
Our gatherings at the first tee, our stretches, our conversations, and our pre-shot-routines are all so strange and unique, an alien observer, one unfamiliar with the game of golf, would surely perceive our behavior as a sacred act and one focused on accomplishing a greater end than just hitting the ball fewer times than the next golfer. This observer would see the pains each player goes through when they miss a green or skull a chip shot. They would think, “This is a march of penance, a reenactment of heroic trials, somehow appeasing the golf gods through each player’s unique journey from tee to fairway, to rough, then back to fairway, and finally to the green. The elation experienced by all good-hearted participants when a forty-foot birdie is sunk with a singularly perfect putting stroke creates an emotional eruption that even the old golf gods hear and revel in from their grassy halls. The inhabitants of this material plane must play the links, once a week if possible. They must bond over great success and painful failure. They must repeat their exposure to the frustrations of this royal and ancient game for hours, lest the people become rigid and uncompromising, the gods disappointed, and the fate of the land shall forever fall into passive aggressive exclusion.
I say, play on golfers, do it with openness and purity, do it to appease the gods, and do it to remain a community who battles on, in togetherness, past bunkers and hazards, fescue and forest, hooks and slices. It isn’t that yet. But we can make it so by making inclusivity the goal we achieve by toning down rigid stuffiness.
When I explain to some of my hardcore outdoor buddies that I’ve recently started to take golf seriously, every one of them deride me as a square for doing so. But then I break it down for them: I carry a bag, not unlike backpacking, as I walk around a beautiful outdoor park, not unlike day hiking, all the while chasing a little round ball, not unlike kicking a pebble down a mountain path, and every so often I come upon a target, I focus extra hard, experience a moment of purest elation or most crushing disappointment (depending on the success of my efforts) and then on I go. I am enjoying my time in nature, spaced out from other people, and I do this for hours and hours at a time. Everybody leaves me alone; I get to be in my own world. Then, as a matter of tradition, when I am all done, I drink and eat and talk about what I’ve just experienced with a bunch of people who enjoyed the same thing, at the same time, but never bothered me for a second, nor I them!
When the outdoor shred and rec. world learns that golf is softening its rigidity, they will wander from between the trees. They will be barefooted with sticks in their hair. A cloud of reefer smoke will be exhaled, a bandana will be adjusted, sunglasses, hanging from a string around their neck will be placed back over eyes closed by the sun, and in one perfect moment, on some far-off fairway, a hiker will approach a golfer. A slow note from a single violin will play in the distance, the camera will zoom out, and at center frame a seven-iron will be handed from a tucked in chap to a far-out fella. No words will be spoken as the violin is joined by the rest of the symphony. The hiker will take their stance over the ball, iron in hand. The alignment will be perfect, the aim true, and the swing executed with grace and full body balance. With the club’s crack as it impacts the ball the music will stop. The ball flight will be spectacular. One hundred sixty yards away the ball will land and gain another thirty yards as it rolls along the fairway and up the front of the green. As the two shake hands, the hikers’ tattoos ripple with the flexion of their muscled arms, sinewy, and tan. The golfer will tip their cap, readjust their belt, and gesture that their golf clubs are now to be shared. They will hand over a brand-new Callaway Chrome Soft from a fresh sleeve. The links will be enjoyed by two very different people that day and each will return to their circles and explain the beauty and success of their time together.
A buddy said, after waiting for me to finish my fantasy, “-beers okay out there?” I responded with sincerity, “there is a person driving a little cart all day long out there, and their whole job is to bring you drinks, and yes, they often have chips and hotdogs too.”
Speechless consideration…
“They cool with a little smoke out there where you golf?” a stout 5.14 climber with a penchant for astrophysics asked.
“Dude,” I replied, “everybody out there is smoking something.”
Compromises and solutions:
Do polo shirts have to be uptight? When will the companies that make Baja hoodies and tie dye organic cottons start targeting the golf scene? I guess the answer is obvious, if golfers won’t browse head shops, head shops won’t start slinging collars. Even the classic golfer attire seems more fun than the current one. A big soft Lebowski sweater and plaid pants are the attire of a scene I want to be a part of. I submit, with all seriousness, that it is finally time to eliminate the ultra-dad-fashion that is the short-sleeved windbreaker. If wind and light rain are the concerns, as they are in dozens of other outdoor activities, perhaps we can get a biking or hiking company on board to design a super comfy anorak with some swing gussets and even a stash pocket. -Last thought on compromises, the golf hoodie is cool. It is functional, but it must not be a descent down the slippery slope toward sloppiness. I say wear it at the tee box, but where it fitted appropriately, wear hoodies specifically made by golf companies for golf, and wear them with other athletically fitting bottoms, headwear, and footwear. This advice serves to steady the already rocked etiquette boat. On a practical note, swinging a club is hard enough, don’t try to do it in a poncho sized hoody just because you finally can.
This brings me to my last point, the time has come for us to admit, calmly, but in unison, that golf is one of the stoner-est sports there is. I’m not talking about the top 200 golfers in the world competing to make history. I’m talking about the rest of us for whom it is a badass game played outside in our free time. Golf shoes are light and flexible, golf pants are super soft, golf shirts are fashionable and give me a sort of private-school feel on a public-school budget. There are no helmets, no pads, no contact, it’s just comfy clothes, curated outdoor space, wildlife everywhere, and swinging a club at a ball for an activity.
I love setting up my bag and my cart for the day. (That’s right, should you prefer, golf is a sport played from a go cart with a roof and cup holders.) Once I’m dressed super comfortably and have arrived at my tee time, all I need do is pull my super cool Woode 8 Hybrid bag from Ogio out of my truck, grab my Sin Bag and cooler, and make my way to the first cart guy. I slap a tenner into his or her hand and set to work setting up my golf cart for the day. I covered my sin bag in another piece but given our specific point to make here, let’s hit the high points again.
Sin Bag: Bluetooth speaker, check. A half dozen Crawl Bars for energy and maintained focus, check. My beloved High Camp Flask Firelight 375 filled with top shelf Mezcal, check. My notebook for recording the deep thoughts that often find their way into these pieces, check. Wad of $5 and $10 bills for tipping cart guys, cart girls, servers, bartenders, the range guy, the starter, and everybody else who works day in and day out to make my experience on the course an awesome one, check! I bring a couple good cigars, a lighter, and a box of wooden matches along with a golf cart cigar clip, these things are nice to indulge in on the course, and even more fun to share with my grateful golf buddies. Finally, I may have a vape pen, a bag of gummies, a pre-rolled joint, or a combination of the three. It’s a Sin Bag, it contains all the additional items in which one can semi-openly indulge while on the course. Keeping in mind, a round at my home course is about four hours and twenty minutes, it is crucial that one comes well supplied for the long haul.
So, my cart is set up. My cooler clips to the side, so that’s a space saver, and my golf bag is strapped to the back. I have the standard accoutrements in my golf bag pockets. My Bose cart speaker is bumping Sam Cooke. I love my rain gloves. I’ve got a pretty cool umbrella. I bring along an extra layer and a beanie, just in case. My extra balls and tees (especially a handful of those great little par three tees) and my range finder (with extra battery) are good to go. Now my cart is set up like a self-contained exploration shuttle, ready for a half day expedition. I’ve got an extra towel hanging from the cart in addition to one on my bag and a hand towel I keep with my flask for messy cocktail making. I have warmth, I have shelter from my umbrella and an old green rain jacket, I usually bring a bunch of water and always bring snacks. I am self-reliant and setting out for the driving range to loosen up the back muscles before the round of my life. Because every round I get to go out and play is going to be the round of my life (or its going to be a hell of a learning experience) I make sure to keep those positive vibes curled up inside me through every swing.
I believe in stretching as much as I believe in imbibing. It’s at the range, early in the morning, when I’m completely alone save for a raven half-greeting me while furtively hopping along the tree line, that I get in the zone. Sometimes I’ll encounter geese as they side eye me from the neighboring eighteenth fairway. I hit the pen or dugout or pipe and meditate on the fortunate series of events that lead to me being able to indulge in almost five full hours of outdoor recreation. I slowly twist my back while taking deep breaths.
I read somewhere that Ben Hogan warmed up with only twenty-five balls. His advice was to hit slow, think about each shot after you hit it, consider what happened, don’t just rush on to the next ball. I do this. I breathe. I fire two seven-irons and they fly sweetly, each dropping within ten yards of the one hundred-fifty-yard marker. I hold the seven-iron head up to my eye level; I wipe away the grass and mud. I give the club my gratitude for being reliable and steadfast—no matter what I ask of it. I replace it in my bag before pulling out my four-hybrid.
Goals provide clarity, they provide motivation, and they provide a path to move forward. We have to know where we’re going before we get there.
-Rick Sessinghaus
I work through my bag. The course is still silent. The dew on the grass, the nip in the air, these things remind me that I am here as much for the scenery as I am for the game. Without thinking about it, I am aware that the fairways will offer more roll, thusly more distance as the dew evaporates. I know the greens will start out mercifully slow until the moisture leaves them as the sunshine spreads out across the course. I remind myself that this game is one that I play in the company of others, but I compete only with myself.
Hiking, mountaineering, and backpacking are similar to golf in this manner of internal competition. When I am out exploring the backcountry, I do it with the same mindful way of taking in my surroundings, observing obstacles, and reminding myself that this is exactly what I want to be doing in this moment and that I am thankful that any of this is possible. I may have a few backpackers “with” me. They are in my group, so much that we started from the same location, share a destination, and started our adventure around the same time. I am not competing with them; we are not timing our adventure. I am keenly aware, however, that I am playing this game of voluntary hardship with myself. My endurance is up against nobody else’s endurance. I judge my own stamina and I award bonus points (in my mind) for style, outlook, and attitude. I take a hit, then up the mountain I go.
“Don’t let your golf influence your attitude; let your attitude influence your golf.”
- Rory McIlroy
We will round up a bunch of backpackers, ones who never golfed a swing in their lives. We remind them to maintain mental focus over four plus hours, as they often do in their own chosen form of outdoor recreation. We will tell them they can smoke weed and eat snacks and overall indulge however they choose. Reminding them that there is more of a goal than simple completion at stake here, that we have to get this little ball into eighteen little cups along the way. They will likely recall kicking that pebble for two miles down a rail trail with great success and proceed toward the tee box with that much more determination. It would be when we remind them that their hundred-dollar hiking shorts are okay, but not ideally fashionable, that they should probably have a collar on their hundred fifty-dollar merino hiking top, and oh, you should really tuck it in. “But I’ve climbed eight peaks with this shirt uncollared and untucked!” they will shout. We will look down at their bare feet, our gaze will pass over the hiker’s chiseled calves, then our eyes will rise to meet theirs, “You’ll want to wear that ballcap forward too—then you can hit the ball…”
“Just kidding! It’s a Tuesday afternoon and the times they are a changin’!” we’ll all laugh as our dirtbagging barefoot round begins with raucous laughter. As it should.
Naturally the adversity encountered on a summit in high winds is far more challenging than the observation of etiquette. Most of my adventure pals would laugh aloud at these arbitrary rules of fashion, roll a one handed joint, crack a beer, and then put their mountaineer’s focus into a three hundred yard drive that lands center fairway. If we could find a way to maintain the traditions of golf that do not exclude, the ones that do not seem arbitrary, perhaps we could get the mountain folk to join us on the links. With them would come their dedication to surmounting challenges, their love of the outdoors, and their ability to bring multiple generations on long term outings with no complaints about weather or discomfort. These are the people who will support local courses, shop at local pro shops, and play during inclement weather when the tee sheet empties, and revenue takes a dive. Now imagine if you offered barefoot golf to these folks and suspended the dress code for a day or during afternoon play, the music of the Wailers could be heard from every hole, and not a scrap of micro trash would remain on the course once they had all finished their rounds. -also, the nineteenth hole would sell out of Heady Topper and All Day IPA every day.
“Be Serene. Go with what you get.”
-Tom Watson
The world of golf, one that I inhabit, passionately, for over one hundred rounds a season and maybe thirty simulator rounds during the ski season, is one of friendly competition, outdoor recreation and exercise, and employment for everyone from the pro and the director to the grounds team and the retail folks. Beyond the course and the nineteenth hole there is the driving range, a practice green, there can be a putting course, a par three course, a simulator, outdoor seating areas with cozy fire pits, patios for private events, and offerings of lessons, kids’ groups, teen nights, school programs, and corporate retreats. The world, the industry, the space, and the vibe that is golf can be an ultra-positive one. When some of the elitist and exclusive walls come down and some of the mind expanding, body relaxing, appetite stimulating, joy inspiring, substances (that are already enjoyed in a clandestine manner across every golf course that I have ever played) gets accepted by the powers that be, everything will change for the better. The people who feel shunned and rejected by the clubhouse vibes, by the fashion standards, and by the exclusivity that is the game in its current form, will arrive hesitantly, but once they are welcomed, after they’ve had their first round, these athletes of the woods will come to love the athletes of the links.
Bonding will occur in the outdoors, as is inevitable. Challenges will be made and accepted. The positive traditions, like having the honor to swing next, replacing somebody’s divot who is already off to pursue their next shot, and the doffing of one’s cap and the shaking of hands to state that our time together was fair and valued, will be shared, and will spread throughout other recreation populations. The golf courses that do this right and do this soon will be the ones that celebrate diversity, that respect social differences, that grow to meet the world as its cultures expand and blend and embrace each other. After all, it’s only a game, it would be best if we learn to play it with each other if we want to keep playing at all.