Clichés became clichés for a reason’ is itself now a cliché. Probably saying that ‘cliches became clichés for a reason is now a cliché’ is also now a cliché. Turtles all the way down.
What is undeniably true – clichéd or not – is that I couldn’t decide on what the first words to be written on this blog should be, and so I decided to take the coward’s way out and run with a quote. That way, if they suck, I don’t need to carry the entire can. Maybe just the lid.
“But it’s your blog!”, I hear you push back. And I ignore you.
It is my blog. And we’re in the swing of it now, so pressure’s off. But what is it, who am I, and why are we here?
We’re mostly here to give myself a combination of outlet and accountability as I embark on a journey and pursue a goal which is, I think, genuinely impossible, but have decided to work towards regardless. (Full disclosure of said goal will come soon, once we’ve gotten to know each other a little better.)
We’re here because, given that all things move in cycles, it seems inevitable that longform online diaries are about to stage a comeback. (It’s them or Pogs, I reckon.)
And we’re also here to talk about golf.
Yes, golf… if the name, url, logo, and assorted other clues dotted around hadn’t already given the game away. If you’ve an active dislike towards golf, this maybe isn’t the place for you – although there might be something for you anyway. Stick around for mirth, heartbreak, judiciously deployed gifs… and then if those things really can’t get you over the golf hump, we can part as friends.
Every hero’s journey begins with a departure. I’m not calling myself a hero, but handily every plain-old-journey also starts with a departure, and this one is no different.
Just over a year ago, this happened:
Not literally – and that isn’t actually me, just to be clear – but about the most real-world expression of this as you could ever expect to find.
Somewhat out of the blue, I’d been gifted two golf lessons for my birthday by my loving partner who most definitely didn’t just want to get me out of the house more. I was pleased, surprised, and a bit apprehensive – so much so that it took a while before I actually got in touch with the local pro whose time I was able to purchase via the medium of email attachment.
But thankfully (I think…) I did get around to it. And so, on April 15th, 2023 I undertook the three-minute drive from our house to Lansdown Golf Club for an introductory session with one James Lee. No kit, no clubs, no real clue what to expect.
I can’t remember exactly how far into the lesson it happened – it certainly wasn’t immediate, but nor did it take that long. A loaner 8 iron grabbed from the pro shop display and a tattered old range ball met in perfect harmony, resulting in a tactile pleasure I’d never felt before, and a ball flight which arced more beautifully than any rainbow.
Flushed.
Music soared. Angels wept. Time and life shook hands, and said goodbye.
And, cliché or not, everything changed forever.
Oh shut up – it did.
Where will that change lead our definitely-not-hero? Find out in Golf Life Crisis s0e2: The first tee
Golf Life Crisis 
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