I’m one of the least athletic people I know, hands down, pants down. I look at beasts that are my age like Manny Machado or C.J. Mosley (raise up, Baltimore) who are achieving unprecedented greatness after two decades on this planet. Then I take a look at myself–just a wimpy narp sitting here being a bitch harboring the realization that I will never achieve physical greatness.
That’s all right, though. If you have goals, you might not reach them; therefore, you can never be disappointed if you don’t have any. This is the perfect philosophy for golf, a game so awesome simply because it’s so lazy. It’s a sport that makes little-to-no physical exertion look majestic.
Here are five reasons why you should start whacking the shit out of Bridgestones like a moron:
It’s a Sport For People Who Suck at Sports
Who are the best golfers? Middle-to-old-aged guys who guzzle barley pops and wantonly disregard their health. Do you think these hefty men have picked up a basketball within the past five years? Probably not. That’s because golf consists of a few body motions that aren’t athletic in any anatomical sense. You sway your hips and swing your arms 180 degrees at the same time, and that’s basically all you need to succeed. It’s the last glimmer of hope for the narp race.
Cheating is Acceptable
Legendary newscaster and sexy voice extraordinaire Paul Harvey once said, “Golf is a game in which you yell ‘fore,’ shoot six, and write down five.” A play on words, sure, but also a proclamation of the sport’s humblest truth: no one gives seven shades of shit what you actually score on a hole. You’re not competing for a club championship and you probably don’t even know what a handicap is; you just want to make yourself seem like you’re getting exercise while simultaneously day drinking.
Drinking is Acceptable
Private and public course rules vary on drinking. If you belong to a snobby country club laden with arrogant parents, odds are there’ll be a beer cart cruising around the links ready to dish out cold ones to sweltering players. If you paid $70 to play on a swamp technically considered a “golf course,” boozing may or may not be permitted. Of course, you’re still going to sneak beer in via your secret golf bag compartment. There’s no shot any of the little prepboy employees will catch you when there’s 150 acres to get lost in.
Tobacco Products? Why Not?
You just finished putting down your fourth Bud Light. Because you’re an imperfect bro with your own crosses to bear, that duplicitous nicotine craving has finally arrived now that you’re rocking a slight buzz. Whip out that pack of cigs or can of wintergreen and go wild. If baseball players can pack fat lips and look cool, why the hell can’t you?
Carting Under the Influence (CUI)
Deliriously whipping golf carts around 150 acres of beautifully manicured grass is exactly the kind of anarchy you need in a world full of rules. Kind of like these guys, except without almost dying. Don’t die, bros.