This is part one of a series of older, shorter blurbs of mine that never got posted...
"Watching the Masters (a golf tournament, for those of you who don't know or don't care) reminds me how bad I am at golf. Golf is a series of problems; it's "a good walk ruined" said Mark Twain or somebody like him. Maybe golf bores or angers you, but it is like any other sport or art; it's hard. It's a challenge to get the little ball in the hole or the basketball in the hoop or the baseball over the fence. Opera, sculpture, Shakespeare, and Beethoven are also difficult. Any great thing is difficult. I know this, but something in me seems addicted to forgetting it. If I hit the ball in the water or play a wrong note, I think it's bad. I think I'm bad. No. It's just hard. Hard things come by trial and error. Life is hard. Even the best golfers play like me sometimes.
Sometimes it's preferable to watch others go at it. Sometimes it's easier to sit it out.
But then I remember: easy's got nothing to do with it.
