There are two things in life which are, in my oh-so-humble opinion, a massive waste of time and effort.
Football and golf. Roughly in that order.
I have never understood why sensible people invest so much emotion in either of them.
And I will never, ever get how people can become millionaires by dint of playing either a kids’ game or a glorified round of pitch and putt.
Football is the worst because of its all pervasive nature.
It takes up too much time on the telly, it takes up too much newsprint, it’s on in the pub, it’s a topic of conversation around me at work and even with my mates (although they do politely dial it down a bit when I’m there, but every so often there’s a flurry of “did you see X do Y at Z”, all of which goes over my head).
Golf is not so much of an imposition but it’s not far off.
So you can imagine I was agog with apathy at the news of a new craze arriving at Hazlehead Park. Footgolf.
Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. You kick a football around an oversized golf course. Right.
They’ve just invented another sport for me to despise.
Mind you, I’m under no illusion as to why I can’t stand these things. It’s because I’m useless at them and always have been.
As a child I was pitifully clumsy. These days I’d probably get a fancy label for my condition and be treated for it.
Back then I was just a laughing stock for the other kids in my school because of my inability to kick a ball in a straight line. Actually, it was more my inability to attempt to kick a ball without tripping over it. In kickabouts – which I was pressured into or I would have been a Johnny No-Mates throughout primary – I was the last one to be picked. Even then the team who got me were given a one goal advantage.
Our occassional forays to the local putting green were much the same. A game with me would last for hours … or until the person I was playing with gave up in frustration as they watched me constantly fail to put a ball in a hole from six inches away.
What’s my handicap? A complete lack of hand-eye co-ordination, that’s what.
I did, however, develop one skill out of all that glorious failure. A healthy sense of humour. Footgolf? Might give it a go for a laugh. But God help me if anyone ever comes up with Snookerdarts.
This article originally appeared on the Evening Express website. For more information, read about our new combined website.
