Illustration by Jan A. Igoe
Lately, you’ve probably noticed that despite the technological magic that can deliver the entirety of human knowledge directly to our thirsty brains, certain Homo sapiens have managed to remain stupid. (I won’t name names since space is limited.) But so far, no vaccine has successfully prevented us from getting dumber.
I recently encountered a couple of golfers who desperately need that vaccine. Since I’ve been living on a golf course for a decade, I’ve become sort of a freelance expert on the species. I study golfers the way Jane Goodall studied apes and occasionally witness antics so bizarre they defy description. But I’ll try.
There are some no-frills facilities adjacent to my house. Granted, they are about a half-step above a Porta Potty, but they still count as my personal outhouses—which should be a bonus when it’s time to sell. Plus, they guarantee daily entertainment.
Like yesterday, when I saw two older guys, who didn’t really seem like the leaping type, suddenly start jumping around, emitting the high-pitched squeals of preteen girls at a Bangtan Boys concert. (Think Backstreet Boys, but Korean.)
Anyhow, they were swinging their drivers like maniacs but were nowhere near the tee. I couldn’t see exactly what inspired the chaos over the hedge separating us, but they were happy to share as they zipped away on their cart.
“We found an enormous snake in the men’s room. We didn’t know if it was poisonous, so we shoved it into the ladies’ room.”
Problem solved. Not every female has experienced the thrill of exposing herself to a venomous reptile (unless they were dating), but thanks to these brave gentlemen, they’ll have that opportunity.
Next up, great brains in tennis. No snakes, just misguided furry logic.
The Wilton Tennis Club thought it would be jolly good fun to get dogs to replace the ball kids at Wimbledon. Brits love dogs as much as tennis. So, assuming no squirrels crash the gate, it’s a swell idea, right?
Wrong. I could have told them this idea was doomed, but oddly enough, no one ever asks me. Yes, dogs are fast. They can fly over the net like it’s a speed bump and evade obstacles like Kalon Barnes running a Carolina Panther blitz. But returning the ball may not be a particularly high priority to the dog.
Historically, canines have been torn between their instinct to chase bouncing yellow prey and their reluctance to relinquish it. Sure, you might find the ball dog in a docile mood, willing to surrender the ball. Or you may be waiting until next month. Just don’t make any plans.
There’s also the matter of a dog’s attention span, which can put a hyperactive 3-year-old to shame. If the dog decides it’s time to curl up with that juicy tennis ball and take a nap, no fourth-set tiebreaker is going to stop him. But don’t lose hope. A marathon game of keep-away could easily be next. On the off chance that the dog does return the ball in a timely fashion, there’s the matter of slobber. Try serving an ace with 5 pounds of industrial glue on your racket. The rule book doesn’t cover that contingency. Yet.
Now, if tennis ever gets a halftime show, the ball dog idea would rock. And in case any brave men decide to leave the dogs in the ladies’ room, there would be less screaming.
Jan A. Igoe devotes her time to documenting golfers in the wild and taming her dogs, who have made off with more than a few golf balls that made the mistake of landing in her yard. Write to her at HumorMe@SCLiving.coop.