Golf Ball Hunting (The bathroom book about the small game of the big game)

Timothy D. Wilson

Description

The lost ball—the nemesis of every golfer—represents the loss of a stroke, the loss of money, and a loss of confidence in your game. Golf Ball Hunting offers a humorous and entertaining perspective of the lost and found golf ball. You’ll be walked through a scavenger hunt for a misguided (pun intended) golf ball, with tips and tricks to find golf balls for profit or fun. Laugh out loud as the author describes his adventures when hunting for the elusive golf balls, and learn search techniques and hunting safety. Discover how to find the lost golf ball “honey holes” in the darkest corners of the rough, woods, and marsh, just off the lush fairway of every golf course, and how these lost balls are like finding “free money” at every turn, hook, and slice.

Sujets

• Sport
• Autres sports
• Golf
• Recreation
• Sports

Informations

• Publié par: Outskirts Press
• Date de parution: 20 décembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781977260567
• Langue: English

Extrait

Golf Ball Hunting (The bathroom book about the small game of the big game) All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2023 Timothy D. Wilson v3.0
The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Outskirts Press, Inc. http://www.outskirtspress.com
ISBN: 978-1-9772-6056-7
Cover & Interior Illustrations © 2023 Steven Linehan. All rights reserved - used with permission.
Outskirts Press and the "OP" logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
P REFACE
Special thanks to my wife, Sallie, and my two sons, Christopher, and Scott, for their support in my previous law enforcement career and for putting up with my weird sense of humor. A huge shout out to my sister, Judy, who was my editor and structural guide while writing this book. She was also always there during the uphill times in my life. Finally, my mother, who always wanted a writer in the family. I hope I am half the writer she was.
T ABLE OF C ONTENTS
Introduction
1 The Thrill of the Hunt
2 Getting Started
3 Critical Tools of the Golf Ball Hunter
4 Dangers for the Golf Ball Hunter
5 Search Patterns
6 Exercise/Walking Is Good for You
7 Helping the Environment
8 Bringing Home Your Balls
Bibliography

I NTRODUCTION
Let’s start this hunting expedition in 2020, when the world had gone as far sideways as a poorly hit golf ball. From Covid-19, to kids being schooled online, to the battle for the presidency for two guys who should be retired and playing golf (Oh wait, one of the two is playing golf!). The world has gone to hell in a handbasket, as my mother would say, but we can still play golf, hunt for lost golf balls, and have some fun. They are two of the very few fun things that meet today’s parameters of "social distancing."
Through the pandemic in 2020 and during other times I needed privacy to save my sanity, I spent an inordinate amount of time on my computer in my home office. My wife thinks that I am working or looking at porn. Neither of which are true. When she asks, "What are you doing in there?" I tell her, I am working on a book relative to the enjoyment of hunting for golf balls. I know she was probably thinking, I knew he was watching porn . No, it is…well…I knew she wouldn’t understand until she lost her brand-new balls or maybe found someone else’s balls… Wait, well, I just hope she understands. Don’t get all "what the heck kind of book is this?" Get your mind out of the sand trap!
This is a (bathroom) book about hunting for (and finding) golf balls. You’ve lost your balls before, and I’m sure your wife, girlfriend, father, husband, brother, sister, or friend had to find them for you. Balls are easy to lose. Sometimes they just run free into the woods, or they hide right in the middle of the fairway. There are those times when your balls trick you. The scenario starts with a great drive off the tee toward a sprawling fairway. As the ball is traveling at lightning speed toward the green, it notices something in its periphery. The ball sees the woods where his lost golf ball friends may be hiding and decides to join them in their game of hide-and-seek from their owners. The free-spirited ball turns towards the woods to be with his (or her) lost ball friends. You start cursing, then that magic sound rings out, but wait, hope springs eternal, the ball hits a tree, and a "nice" tree monkey throws your ball out of the woods and back onto the fairway. You’ve got to love those tree monkeys. Those tree monkeys make your golf shot go from "$%^#& damn it, I’m in the frickin’ woods again!" to "My partner’s saying, ‘Nice shot!’" You then pause, wave to the tree monkeys, then look up at the golf gods, give them a wink, and say, "That was lucky." So, the possibility of your golf ball joining his/her friends in the game of hide-and-seek must wait for another day (or the next hole!).
Speaking of the golf gods, we all know that our entire golf game is controlled by the golf gods. Practice, practice, practice is the way to get to Carnegie Hall. Genuflection, prostration, and sacrifice to the golf gods are the way to a good golf game. Where are these golf gods, you ask? Oh, they sit up there in the golf god country club drinking spiked Arnold Palmer’s®, enjoying the pleasures of raining hell and brimstone on your golf game, guiding your swing to make you hit the ball in the swamp, rough, woods, and /or water.
When you first consider taking up the pleasure of golfing, the gods first take control of your wallet and then convince you through telepathy that this would be a great way of getting out of the house, spending time with your friends, and enjoying nature. You’re an intelligent human and know that with the right tools you can do great things, right? Hence, you understand that when you purchase that $400 driver, you’ll be able to crush the ball straight down the fairway and never lose a ball, EVER. So, you head to the golf shop and buy a starter set of clubs at oh, say $1,500, because the golf gods have salesmen too. While at the store, the "golf pro" convinces you to buy a box of fifteen high-quality golf balls, just like the ones the pros use, for around fifty bucks, some expensive tees, and a perfect-fitting golf glove. Like that will help. Meanwhile, you have forgotten in all your worldly golf wisdom that "it’s not the arrow, it’s the Indian" that causes perfect flight of the arrow well, in this case, a ball that hits the target, pin, flag, green, and fairway. Oh, you silly golfer. Now back to those new balls. You know you might lose one or two, but then reality sets in. Of those fifteen expensive balls, you may come home with one, maybe two. How can that be? You ask your internal golf loving self. Well as it so happens, the golf gods have released a plethora of selfish tree monkeys, invisible fairway gophers, and finally the Kraken that lives in the small ponds that litter the course who serve the water god, all of whom have conspired to steal your brand-new balls. Don’t worry, your lost balls are with friends, and you’ll find them later when you go golf ball hunting as you need to replace those expensive balls. You’ll bring those newly found balls home and take care of them, along with their adopted brothers and sisters found from previous hunts. They are named Titleist®, Callaway®, and Nike®. It will be a lost golf ball reunion.
My ability to actually play golf, well, that’s a horror story. My golf skill on the golf scale of 1–100 is at a level 1. BUT my ability to find golf balls is awesome, as my previous skills as an investigator kick in, and now I consider myself a semiprofessional golf ball hunter, which means I hunt for, then sell, golf balls for money. I’ve played golf for years, usually once or twice a year, but now, it’s once, twice, or three times a week. That’s the joy of being semiretired; for fun and recreation you can go out and play golf, then beat yourself up every time you screw up a shot! Now you are probably thinking, Why do you torture yourself on a weekly basis? The answer is, there is still light at the bottom of the pin cup. The golf gods do show mercy on the weary golfer laying grace on your shoulders by letting you hit the perfect drive or cup a forty-foot putt; you look up and say, "Thank you, golf gods." You’ll be back next week, after you buy more balls! To your new, now lost, golf balls, you bid them adieu. To the golf ball hunter, all the other golfers who lost balls, well, bad for them and good for you. Those balls are fair game for "the hunt."
It’s a Groundhog Day golf prison you can’t escape. As every golfer knows, when you are driving to the golf course you are filled with the enthusiasm of a potentially great game with your friends, spouse, or some random people the golf gods pair you with. And I am sure you have experienced that there are good golf partners, and well, there are bad golf partners (i.e., crazy). Good golf partners are people who you harass when you have a bad shot or a poor putt. But at the end of the round, they shake your hand, and you all have a beer to commiserate. Bad golf partners (i.e., cray cray) are serious. I mean really serious. They give you that PLEASE BE QUIET WHEN I’M HITTING stare, and they give you unwanted golf advice that they think will help your game. A good example of a bad golf partner is when the beer wench comes around in her little beer cart and you’re in the woods hunting for your golf ball, along with having fun finding a bunch of other free balls. It’s at a point when those "bad golf" people are nuzzling up to the beer wench to buy beer, for themselves, and then release the beer wench. You stand there, alone and beer-less, but you found balls! I digress. Where were we? Oh yes, golf, the sport of kings, the smell of fresh-cut grass, a beautiful day, birds chirping, sprinklers, um, sprinkling, and the golf gods planning your day. Maybe the gods will let you find a massive amount of expensive Pro VI ® or Bridgestone® golf balls.
Unlike real hunting, which has an expensive start-up, golf ball hunting is cheap. There was some analysis done somewhere that deer hunters end up paying about $200 a pound for the first deer they shoot. Think of it, the new deer hunter had to buy a gun, scope, targets, ammunition to practice shooting at the range, more ammo for the hunt, a license, clothing, boots, food, beer, portable deer stand, a truck to haul a deer stand, and hopefully, if they get a deer, deer processing, and a day at the spa for your w