I am a terrible golfer. I slice my drives, chunk my approaches, skull my chips and miss my putts. I've hit balls into lakes, streams, oceans, woods, streets, parking lots - even dinged a fancy-looking BMW once and had to cut the round a few holes short - and rough so thick they could have filmed safari movies inside them. I've been penalized for grounding my club in a bunker, grounding my tee outside the tee box and almost putting another player on the course in the ground when one of my tee shots flew straight through his cart. But guess what? I am not the worst golfer in America. How do I know this? Because I've never started a 25-acre fire with one of my swings.
Two weekends ago, an unnamed golfer at the Shady Canyon Golf Course in California started such a blaze when his swing hit a rock and created a spark. The spark caught on some dry rough and started a fire that needed almost 200 firefighters with air support to contain. Thankfully, no homes were destroyed and no golfers were injured, but still, I seek justice! No official charges will be filed against the unidentified golfer, but as a diligent enforcer of - and often victim to - several dumb punishments we golfers enforce on each other, I am determined to make sure this guy faces some repercussions. Ever try to play the rest of a hole with your pants around your ankles after your first shot failed to pass the women's tees? It's not easy - but I will be glad to suggest a couple alternate punishments for our unintentional arsonist friend. After we smoke him out of hiding, of course.
1. The golfer must be the official Shady Canyon driving range, ball-picker-upper cart driver. After doing more damage to a course than anyone since the gopher hunter and assistant greens keeper Carl Spackler from "Caddyshack" put a few holes in Bushwood, it's really the least he could do for Shady Canyon. Heck, he would be doing the course a favor by increasing sales of driving range balls tenfold! How many buckets of balls would golfers buy to try and stick one right in the protective cage of the car because they had to cancel their afternoon tee times after Smokey here decided to mistake a rock for his Titleist purchase? Two? Five? Ten? Hell hath no fury like that of a weekend golfer who has to be told upon arriving at the course that he can't hit the links for the only four-and-a-half hours of his week when he can forget about his problems, hit a few balls and drink a few beers with his friends. Want revenge? Stick him in the cart!
2. Furthermore, Spark-o-saurus is hereby officially forced to play with nothing but TaylorMade Burner clubs for the rest of his life. I mean really, how has TaylorMade not jumped at the opportunity to get this guy in advertisements? It's a match made in heaven - pun intended. Can't you just see the commercial: Want to burn 'em down the middle like me? I only use TaylorMade Burners. Golfer takes a swing and the course is set ablaze. I don't want it to sound like an insult to TaylorMade clubs - I just want to hear all the jokes this guy will be forced to take each and every round. Much like we all can't get through a round without hearing the obligatory "It's a great game Mary. Does your husband play?" everyone from his playing partners to the beer girl needs to be ready to lay a few of these on this guy: "You really smoked that one," or "Man, your irons are on fire today," or "You playing in tomorrow's match play event?" or - my personal favorite - "Dude, you've sure been hitting a lot of worm burners today." Everyone, set your minds to overdrive and be sure to have a good one waiting if you ever meet this dude on the first tee.
Look, I know I'm probably being a little harsh on the guy. It's likely he was actually smoking on the course, threw his butt in the rough and, when the flames started, was forced to concoct this smokescreen. But even if it is true, we can't just give him a free pass. I mean, imagine the heart attack Smokey would have had if he was in the group behind the unlucky golfer? And if he can't take it, well, then I guess it all just goes back to that famous golf axiom:
"If you can't stand the heat, then keep the damn ball in the fairway"
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