For those of you crazy enough to play the crazy game of golf, I've got news for you - golf after age 50 can be one bittersweet pill to swallow because the peaks are higher, the valleys are lower, and never the twain shall meet.
Please consider with me the good and bad ups and downs of Golf After Age 50:
*After age 50, you get to your lost balls quicker because you now lose them shorter. Because of poor vision and smudged bifocals, you still can't find them in the rough or weeds, and you know you're treading on virgin ground because the other golfers out there lose their balls way further down the fairway. But the fact remains - A lost ball is a lost ball. Go back to the tee and hit another one and you're laying three. Better yet, drop another ball nearby in the short grass and play away, laying two. Trust me. It's better for your score and doesn't really hurt anything but your conscience, which you should have locked in your trunk after you got your clubs out anyway.
*After age 50, you now hit driver, fairway metal, 8-iron to get to the green on the par 4s, when you used to hit driver, wedge. Note: This adds one stroke per hole on the par 4s, and two strokes on the par 5s, which totals nine strokes per 9-hole round, if you catch my drift. Hey, bogey man, you're not playing any worse, you're just playing shorter!
*After age 50, you've gone from walking nine or 18 holes to riding in a cart at all times except when putting on the green. If you could, you'd drive the cart into the clubhouse and EZ-GO it up to the bar to get your beverage. Folks, this is not why they call your cart a "Club Car." Now an official "cartaplegic," you even find yourself waiting for or begging a ride to the cart house a mere 50 yards away to get your cart!
*After age 50, you still oogle the girls at the Cherokee Country Club swimming pool on holes 1, 2 and 7. You just can't remember why.
*After age 50, you finally equate that the number of times you crawl in and out of your cart is directly proportional to the score you shoot. Hence, you rarely have a need for a scorecard, which serves as nothing more than an embarrassing paper trail to your number of strokes. You simply tally the times you crawled in and out of the cart. For instance, "I crawled in and out of my cart 97 times today!" sure sounds a lot less painful than, "I shot a #*&+! 97!"
*After age 50, you no longer ponder "Poker and beer?" or "Poker and whiskey?" while playing the 18th hole on your way to the 19th hole. Now, it's hurry home to change your Depends, get the mac & cheese boiling and the vacuuming done before wifey number four gets there, and have a couple straight shots of Metamucil while sitting on a 5-gallon plastic bucket your pit bull's food comes in, on the 3-foot square, plywood deck wired with clothesline and eyehooks to your particle board double-wide.
*After age 50, there's usually only two or three guys in your foursome because those missing guys are either too busy, too good, out of town, sick or dead. Or, they're at the store buying Depends, vacuum bags and Metamucil.
*After age 50, when you scream "Fore!" to warn golfers in front of you that your ball could hit them, your ears ring for the rest of the day and your throat feels like you just chased a shot of Everclear with a handfull of gravel and an imported Cuban 15 inches long and as thick as your third wife's forearms.
*After age 50, the term "laying up" takes on a whole new meaning. Like, "Joe's laying up by the first tee. He grabbed his chest, doubled over and fell face-first in the grass. We would have tended to him but we had already hit our drives and didn't want to hold up play. We hope he's OK." Or, "See them girls laying up by the pool? Man, if only I was 30 years younger...
Yes, Madam Golf, dear. After age 50, one of these days you'll swing your skillet and my face won't be there.