Par 9

Help me out, guys. I'm a novice golfer so how can I be expected to hit those Par 3's, 4's, and 5's? Why isn't there a "Par 9" for those of us who, as yet, haven't mastered the game? Higher pars would pay off in more playful boasting at the 19th watering hole. To begin, I must confess that I'm talking about mini-golf. I've never actually set foot on a fairway, but have played on miniature greens, where low pars can challenge a beginner as well as tens of thousands of kids who could use a psychological boost. It's time to revise the rules, I say. TV has been dumbed down, why not golf?

My sweetheart Donald and I see a lot of golf on television, which many people say if it were any slower it would be called farming. But not me. I'm a rabid TV golf fan, and decided I might be able to improve my game on the mini-course by analyzing the golf greats, their swings, drives and putts. Throughout the season, we watched golf from Pebble Beach to Augusta. When I saw one pro make what seemed like an impossible shot, I asked Donald, "How did he do that?"

"He used a long putter." I made a mental note of that. Use a longer club. When another expert made an eagle from 18 feet, Donald said, "He read the greens." Well, being a writer, I am familiar with all sorts of reading matter but not of greens. So I made a mental note of the technique of lying on the ground or crouching down, and eyeing the hole from various angles, to determine the ball's route to the cup. That didn't seem so difficult, and I thought I'd give it a try next time out.

That day came, and we were off to the mini course, and I felt prepared with my newly acquired, virtual learning. I was ready to put what I'd studied on TV into action. I had done my homework, and was set to putt. With Donald at my side (he's an old pro who played lots of "customer" golf before he retired), I felt like I had an additional head's up. He knew the techniques of the game, and would act as my personal golf pro.

After selecting a long putter instead of the shorter woman's club I usually chose, and a green ball rather than a pink, I was set to go. Donald chose a masculine blue ball, and made par on the first hole, but for me it would have been a "Par 7" if such existed. Surely, I would improve as we made our way through the windmills and tunnels on the course. At the fifth hole, Donald shot a hole-in-one, but by then my can-do attitude was wavering. My score was a big positive where as negative scores win a match. Attempting to get back in the game, I decided I would go one further: I would read the greens. Positioning myself on the ground, and suffering grass burn on both knees from the scratchy artificial surface, I drew unwanted stares from nearby players. I expected someone to shout: "Golfer down!" Red-faced, I got up and made a triple bogy I'd like to forget.

Donald played on, and I struggled. Somehow learning by observation wasn't working. On the 15th hole, beginner's luck kicked in, and I dunked a birdie. I was as happy as the sea gulls soaring overhead. When I hit that birdie, I discovered the secret to happiness in golf and, perhaps, in life too: low expectations. By that time I had pretty much thrown in the putter. I hadn't expected to make par let alone birdie, and felt pretty smug. But luck didn't strike twice, and I finished 21 over par. Those 18 holes had seemed like a long stretch to me, but then I reminded myself that we weren't lugging heavy golf bags, or being watched on TV by millions of viewers. We called it a day, and I decided I probably needed more real practice, rather than more face time in front of a television set.

Barbara L. Smith is a published, produced playwright and corporate speechwriter. She welcomes comments at blsmith283@aol.com.