“Litost is an untranslatable Czech word…I have looked in vain in other languages for an equivalent, though I find it hard to imagine how anyone can understand the human soul without it” Milan Kundera; “The Book of Laughter and Forgetting” As sometimes happens, a few words stop me in my tracks, and though I continue to go through the motions of everyday life, I am at the same time detached, grappling with an unexpected twist in my thinking. I’d been writing about the single great shot that always emerges at the very depths of golfing misery - “
The litost salvation in golf comes through match play. In my 60+ years at the game there have been very few truly memorable shots, but as long as they are slightly less unsuccessful than those of my opponent they suffice to warm the heart.
Would that it could be so easy to smile and laugh at every duff incurred in the crazy game. Perhaps after 2+ years of inability to play my perspective will be improved? Here's hoping.
The picture of attempting a recovery from the water brings to mind my first round of golf "across the pond." Flew to Ireland for a fraternity brother's wedding in '84. Had two sets of clubs in my carrier (another friend was traveling in Europe and meeting me in Dublin) which really flummoxed the boys in customs. Anyway, someone broke into my bag and stole the paper bag containing 30 or so golf balls, leaving 7 balls in the pocket of one of the bags. Our first round at Portmarnock we each lost three balls, then played 3 or 4 more holes of alternate shot before we lost our last one. . . trying desperately not to be the one who hate the fated last shot. Learned that when you hit a ball into the fescue, you cannot look away. Stare at that spot, and walk straight to it, and there your ball will be. Look away, and I fear that you'll be walking in circles ("I'm sure it's right around here"). Generally to no avail.
I never really believed that "One shot brings me back" saying. Yes, I had success and confidence since the 5th grade (which was in 1968), BUT it was the bad shots as much as anything that made me practice to 'get it right-I can do this' that brought me back as much as the love of or seeking more success....
The litost salvation in golf comes through match play. In my 60+ years at the game there have been very few truly memorable shots, but as long as they are slightly less unsuccessful than those of my opponent they suffice to warm the heart.
Would that it could be so easy to smile and laugh at every duff incurred in the crazy game. Perhaps after 2+ years of inability to play my perspective will be improved? Here's hoping.
The picture of attempting a recovery from the water brings to mind my first round of golf "across the pond." Flew to Ireland for a fraternity brother's wedding in '84. Had two sets of clubs in my carrier (another friend was traveling in Europe and meeting me in Dublin) which really flummoxed the boys in customs. Anyway, someone broke into my bag and stole the paper bag containing 30 or so golf balls, leaving 7 balls in the pocket of one of the bags. Our first round at Portmarnock we each lost three balls, then played 3 or 4 more holes of alternate shot before we lost our last one. . . trying desperately not to be the one who hate the fated last shot. Learned that when you hit a ball into the fescue, you cannot look away. Stare at that spot, and walk straight to it, and there your ball will be. Look away, and I fear that you'll be walking in circles ("I'm sure it's right around here"). Generally to no avail.
There’s that brassie head flying off down the fairway again & the whipping blowing in the wind AND our laughter…..
I never really believed that "One shot brings me back" saying. Yes, I had success and confidence since the 5th grade (which was in 1968), BUT it was the bad shots as much as anything that made me practice to 'get it right-I can do this' that brought me back as much as the love of or seeking more success....
Also, love the, "I wouldn't start from here" bit.
Richard, thank you. Well done. Dave Linkchorst