Golf/Rugby

With the announcement that golf and rugby will be Olympic sports in 2016, my first thought was "I'd better brush up on my back swing."

Then for some reason I thought the news announcer said the sports were somehow combined, and my mind wandered deliciously...

"It's a beautiful, gusty day here at the Links Rugby Pitch in St. Andrews.

"This is the first round of qualifying for the 2016 Olympics, in this, the new sport of Golby."

"Actually, officials are still trying to determine a name for this new and exciting sport. Golby seems to be taking hold, although Gugby was popular for a time. Other suggested names have been Rulf, Golly and Earsrippedoffgolferhaha."

"The ball is at mid-field, Tiger is just adjusting his headband as he and Phil Mickelson watch Padraig Harrington of the English side tee up the ball.

"The referee whistles and the players lean in to the scrum...there's a little shoving there...now the club is tossed in and OH! what a tee shot! Tiger got a good one off of Nick Faldo's head and Faldo is bleeding profusely as the ball sails down the field!"

"The players charge towards the goal line, clubs swinging, as we get this 60 minute test match under way. Back to you in the studio Jim..."

Playing Goff

I love how the golf announcers on TV pronounce it that way - goff. "That was a good goff shot Johnny" they say.

Like it could be described as a good hockey shot instead...

Or "That was a good goff shot for a base hit there Johnny..."

These guys are masters (ha) of the obvious.

Anyway, I'm working on a column about swatting small white spheroids with a weighted stick.

I recall the first time I ever swung a club. I was in my mid-twenties and my dear aunt and uncle took me to a driving range. I discovered I could, in fact, hit the ball with some regularity and skill, with no lessons whatsoever. I now consistently play rounds in the mid hundreds as an attestation to this phenomenal natural talent.

I also recall my dear aunt swinging for all it was worth, while simultaneously letting fly with some good, loud flatulence. My aunt is a very proper woman and she was quite mortified, not only for having boosted her swing like that, but because her nephew and husband were rolling around on the ground, weeping with laughter.

Naturally I have never let her forget the incident.

Naturally, she takes great pride in having me removed from her last will and testament.

Fairs fair.

It makes me wonder, though, if this waggling before hitting the ball has some nefarious, deceptive purpose other than loosening up the swing muscles. I think golfers waggle to camouflage the fact they are releasing toxic clouds of intestinal gas prior to hitting, thus poisoning the atmosphere for their rest of their foursome. This is a good defensive measure I must admit, having used it once or twice myself.

So why do they call it waggling then? Why not call it what it is, or give it a sly new name like, I don't know, "Glurbing."

"Next on the tee is Dave Crawford, the famous humourist. Oh, and he's just glurbing before hitting the ball. Good one. That's a good defensive goff technique Johnny since Tiger is teeing off right behind him and he's already making a face...you can always tell a good glurb since the gallery claps before he strikes the ball AND after..."

Logging

I was going to lube up the chainsaw and cut down some of the old-growth weeds out in the yard today, but seeing as its Fathers Day, maybe I'll just relax and watch golf.

Same with mowing the lawn.

My motivation for doing yard work was inspired yesterday by a faint cry for help from the overgrown side yard. Not sure what made the sound - bird, animal, kid - whatever.

I'll try to cut a road through the brush tomorrow maybe. We've got a Canadian in contention at the U.S. Open so it may all have to wait.

Might rain too.