golf

The good characters in my book are loosely based on folks I know. All the bad stuff is made up.

An aspirational diet will have you dreaming of success; but it__ the attachment of expectations and tangible goals that feeds the desire, persistence, and fortitude required to make the win.

You must be grounded to take flight.

A good golfer__ métier is his or her golfing skill.A great golfer__ métier is his or her golfing skill, coupled with the mastery of good sportsmanship, rendering him or her an ambassador for the sport.

Light is found on the green.

A well hit golf shot is a feeling that goes up the shaft, right through your hands and into your heart.

I hope you're golfing today.

The mornings came hard, and our caddie master, Dick Millweed, had a temper that could make a hangover seem like a seismic fracture. He was a small man with a soft, friendly voice. He was not intimidating at all, until he lost it. In his defense, he took shit from all sides - from the members who wanted their favorite caddie and their preferred tee time, from the golf staff who wanted him to perform a million menial duties, and from us when we showed up bleary eyed and incoherent and sometimes didn't show up at all. And God forbid a caddie should stumble in late, because then Millweed's lips would begin to tremble and his blue eyes would explode from his head. They grew as large as saucers and shook as though his skull was suffering earthquake. And he appeared to grow with them. It was like some shaman or yogi trick. Pound for pound, I've never met anyone else who could so effectively deliver anger. He would yell, "You like fucking with me, don't you? You like making me look bad! You wake up and say, 'Today I'm gonna fuck with Millweed!' and it makes you happy, doesn't it?"And we had no choice but to stand there and take it - hang our heads and blubber apologies and promise never to be hung over again, never to show up late again, because he held the ultimate trump card _ he could fire us and cut us off from the golden tit. But once we were out on the course walking it off, the hanover and any cares associated with it (including Millweed) evaporated into the light mountain air. And after the round, with our pockets replenished and our spirits restored by the carefree, self-congratulatory ebullience of the uberrich, we were powerless to resist the siren song of clinking glasses, the inviting golden light of the street lamps and tavern windows in town, and the slopeside hot tubs steaming under the stars. We all jumped ship and dined, danced, and romanced the night away and then were dashed against the rocks of Millweed's wrath all over again the next morning.

TV families and your own are hard to tell apart, except your isn't interrupted every six minutes by commercials and theirs don't get bogged down into nothingness, a state where nothing happens, no skit, no zany visitors, no outburst on the laugh track, nothing at all but boredom and a lost feeling, especially when you get up in the morning and the moon is still shining and men are making noisy bets on the first tee.

I always knew what was most important to me. When I was growing up, nothing was more important than golf, but that__ the attitude of a young person who hasn__ a care in the world. Later on I figured it out. Family was first. Always. Then golf and business come after.

Consider the value of doing what you love and being paid for it! This is truly a golfer__ dream.

Although golf was originally restricted to wealthy, overweight Protestants, today it's open to anybody who owns hideous clothing.

It was a morning when all nature shouted "Fore!" The breeze, as it blew gently up from the valley, seemed to bring a message of hope and cheer, whispering of chip-shots holed and brassies landing squarely on the meat. The fairway, as yet unscarred by the irons of a hundred dubs, smiled greenly up at the azure sky; and the sun, peeping above the trees, looked like a giant golf-ball perfectly lofted by the mashie of some unseen god and about to drop dead by the pin of the eighteenth.

There's a reason why golfers walk forward to their next shot. It's to move on.

Stocks are also like Golf; while you are sure to hit a birdie, eagle, albatross, you wind up hitting one or two over par!

Golf sits in that beautiful junction between perfection and frustration.

When I was 15, a well off man told me the secret to success was golf. It took me until I became 30 to realize it was the true. Today, you couldn't convince me otherwise.

I have spent my entire lifetime trying to figure out how to connect work and passion. When I finally figured it out, life became so much more beautiful!