Every year here in Monterey (or, strictly speaking, at Pebble) the AT&T—formerly, Bing Crosby—Pro-Am arrives in the early spring, and people go in droves to . . . watch. people. play. golf. I do not understand the fascination. Especially when I'm sitting in backed-up traffic as a result.
That said, I did enjoy looking out over the beautifully kept fairways, greens, sand traps, and bordering woods this evening, and watching the odd late-afternoon foursome finish up their eighteen holes. I can almost see the appeal (of playing, not watching). One has to cultivate serious focus: it's a zen sport. And it's a full-body sport. And it is nice to be surrounded by green.
Peter Hay nine-hole course in Pebble Beach, just for a lark. For me, it would have to be a lark: I have no idea how to swing a golf club. But in the right company? It could be fun. Or at least funny. Maybe one of these days we'll do it.