From the Porch
Duffers from Dunceville
Dwight Otwell

I swung at a golf ball for the first time in two years. I missed.

My stepdaughter DeEtte and I put our incompetency on the links on display for all the world to see - at least all the world who were in the vicinity of the golf course on this particular afternoon.

DeEtte was on leave from the Navy, where she is a member of an elite team - Mobile Security Forces. She wanted to play a round of golf with me and my father, John Otwell.

Daddy is nearly 82 but he has played golf all his life and can shoot circles around DeEtte and me. You simply can't play golf every year or two and look accomplished swinging the club.

To make matters worse, Daddy agreed to let a man from Savannah, Georgia, who owns a cabin in Blue Ridge, play with us. Kenny

was obviously a very accomplished golfer.

We advised him up front that if he was in a hurry, he should not play with us, because we knew that much of our time would be spent searching in the woods for errant golf balls. He wanted to play with us anyway and it turned out that he was very nice and patient.

Webster's Dictionary describes golf as an outdoor game played on a large tract of land with a small, hard rubber ball and a set of clubs, the object being to drive the ball into a series of small holes with the fewest possible strokes. A duffer is a derogatory term applied to poor players. I dub DeEtte and me duffers.

We certainly played outdoors and the tract of land seemed as expansive as the Grand Canyon. We used clubs but they seemed too small and the golf balls seemed minute. I'm sure that we must have gotten ahold of some experimental golf balls that are half the normal size.

It's true that the holes were small - it was like trying to find a person overjoyed to be in the middle of an Atlanta traffic jam.

DeEtte and I seemed to miss the point of the game - getting the ball into the hole in the fewest number of strokes. After the first hole, we didn't even keep score.

I believe it took me 12 strokes to complete the first par-five hole. Once I got near the green, I chipped the ball completely over the green. Setting up on the other side of the green, I chipped the ball over the green again, ending up where I was two strokes ago. Kenny kept his laughter to himself.

We continually bugged my dad about which club we should use. My ball appeared to be kin to a divining rod - it went straight for any water in the vicinity.

DeEtte, wanting to hit the ball to the left from a tee, asked if it was legal to stand at a crazy angle to hit the ball. I can only imagine what Kenny thought of the Duffers from Dunceville. DeEtte and I both got some belly laughs whenever we completely missed the ball on our swings. If we were playing baseball, we would have struck out a few times.

However, we did improve a bit as we played. Each of us at times made beautiful, soaring shots. I even made a few good chips. We each made a birdie. I also made a couple of pars. So it appears that we have the potential to improve - if we play more often than every other year.