One-Track Mind
Apologies for missing a few weeks of writing. It's hard work prepping for Scotland.
I need to offer all of you wonderful subscribers an apology. It’s been a few weeks and I haven’t uttered a word, haven’t attempted to make you laugh, haven’t even made you cry. Let me explain.
Current debates notwithstanding, I’m a man, which means I have a one-track mind, devoid of that useful skill of multi-tasking. Half of you – and by “half,” I mean other men – will completely understand my unproductivity. For the rest of you, my wonderful wife included, accept my apologies for such uselessness in advance.
Where has my mind been stuck these past few weeks? You deserve to know the story.
One of my best friends – the kind of friend who would block a train for you – is turning 50 in a couple of weeks. Thanks to the invention of the modern-day calendar some years back, we have known Mickey will celebrate this milestone for a couple of years now.
Mickey and I became friends more than 15 years ago for the same reasons men have always become friends, dating back to at least the cavemen. We both enjoy hitting objects with sticks. We like starting fires. We like searing meat on those fires. We like watching other cavemen tackle each other, assuming those cavemen can control the line of scrimmage.
To celebrate Mickey’s monumental birthday, he and I, along with one of my dearest childhood friends, Kevin, will make our way to golf’s holy land for a 10-day excursion trudging over and around the dunes and heather and fescue grasses of Scotland.
It’s at this point of the column when I could probably just stop writing. If you’re a golfer, you’re nodding your head with complete understanding – even empathy – acutely aware of my inability to think about anything other than the cool breezes rushing off the Firth of Clyde. On the eastern side of the country, just north of St. Andrews, the Home of Golf, there’s an inlet of water – I kid you not – called the River Eden. Might as well be the actual Garden.
But for the other half of you, the ones who still don’t understand my futility leading up to this trip, allow me to properly embarrass myself and, quite possibly, find myself sleeping on the couch until I return from this sojourn.
I am finishing today’s column from the waiting room of a sterilized location because I have an appointment to lie face down on an operating table where a licensed medical professional will stick a 6-inch needle into my spine – specifically my lower back – to relieve a hernia that may or may not impact my physical ability to function. A lot of people have procedures like this, except they usually get such injections at the time they first experience pain.
Not me. I’ve gone months with a locked lower back and radiating pain shooting down my right leg. The problem is doctors only give these shots every few months – at most. I visited my doctor more than six weeks ago and asked if we could plan my injection the week before our golf trip. This, my friends, is what you call commitment (or idiocy) and is but one example.
For the past three months, I have visited the Disneyland of golfers – a place called the PGA Superstore – no less than 17 times. On one trip, I bought new grips for my new clubs. The next time, I realized I needed a short-sleeved rain jacket. I bought leather, water-proof golf shoes and took them out for a round of golf the next day. On the 16th hole, my back foot slipped and nearly paralyzed me. I went back to Disneyland the next day and bought a new pair. Half of my visits, I’ve left with nothing. It’s just that I felt I needed to make sure they didn’t have anything I MIGHT need.
If you really want some insight into how difficult the anticipation of this trip is on the one-track psyche, allow me to share some group texts between Mickey, Kevin and me.
January 17, 2023 – From Kevin: (a full seven months before our trip): I just booked my trip from BHM to EDI.
February 4 – From Kevin: If we go to war with China and it screws up our golf trip, I’m gonna be pissed.
February 4 – From Mickey: Are you ready for the trip? (Remember, we’re still six months out here.)
February 4 – From Kevin: Yes!!!! (Not kidding. Four exclamation points.)
March 9 – From Me: Made a business decision today. (Accompanying this text was a picture of a new set of irons I purchased.)
March 9 – From Mickey: They look good.
March 9 – From Mickey: Seeing those irons got me more fired up for the trip.
March 9 – From Me: Well, that’s why I bought them, Mick.
March 9 – From Mickey: About time you two old boys got excited. (This is four months prior to the trip.)
May 2 – From Mickey: He sends us a link previewing Cruden Bay, the first course we play on our trip. Still 61 days before we leave.
May 3 – From Mickey: Kevin, are you bringing your Thera Gun?
May 3 – From Kevin: If you think we’ll need it.
May 3 – In Unison: Yes.
May 31 – From Me: I’m ordering 3 dozen personalized golf balls for the trip.
May 31 – From Kevin: You need 3 dozen?!?!?!?
May 31 – From Me: I’ll probably buy more when I get there. You’re good. I’m terrible.
I completely understand half of you will struggle to find the humor in these thoughtful conversations. What I also understand is how lucky I am to have such good friends. And yes, I also fully understand how lucky I am to have a wife who understands us boys and our one-track minds.
Another note from me: While I can’t make full promises (depending on how poorly I’m playing), I’m planning to make this newsletter something of a follow-along through the courses and towns of Scotland, starting next week. You can always delete the email if you’re bored with it. I’ll do my best to make it not-boring.
Now I'm excited about your golf trip with the fellas! I think it's wonderful that you are "living the dream" with your mates and we women understand that guys just wanna have fun too! Enjoy!