Grouchy Golf Blog

Wednesday, May 04, 2005 at 9:34 AM

Viewer Mail! Jorge writes...

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The following grouchy golf observation was submitted by a grouchy golfer named Jorge. I think that many golfers can relate to his story. Thanks Jorge!

Big Fat Golf Uniform Wearing Moron

There is this this particular guy who practices at the same range I do. The parctice area is not in a nice neighborhood, and is just as casual as it can be. However this guy won't show up to work on what I will generously refer to as his 'game' until he gets his pants ironed, shirt pressed, shoes shined, and visor aligned to perfection.

The short game area at this range is really quite small and can only handle two or three people working at once on their greenside fundamentals. Even with just three people you have to be careful not to interfere with the others there. The big fat golf uniform wearing moron likes to go to the short game area with a duffel bag of balls and stand in the most inconvenient place and chip approximately 100 balls at a time. Then he slowly fetches all 100 of them, moves 3 feet, and starts chipping them again. he likes to pretend he is the only one working in the short game area. When I go there and work on my short game I take 4 balls and move around frequently from pin to pin and to different lies. It's really hard to work with him there simply because on the rare occassion he hits one close to the pin you have to sort through all 100 of his balls in order to find the 4 you are working with.

I have grown to really dislike this guy.

Just yesterday evening I went to hit balls in the early evening. There is a gigantic staff bag set up next to where I make my hitting station. This staff bag is full of a brand new set of Titleist Blades and Vokey Wedges. Good looking clubs. really.

So I hit 8 or 9 balls and warm up. The ground is saturated with water so you have to really keep still and work hard to get good contact and not get splashed. Then out strolls the staff bag owner with a gigantic bucket of balls.

It's the big fat golf uniform wearing moron. He has apparently bought another set of clubs (titleist blades) and has a deluxe new titleist visor as well.

So I am just hitting little shots at a flag about 130 yards away. I am tired and had a hard week and have not worked real hard on golf lately. I am just hitting little 3/4 shots and enjoying the feel. So my boy next to me reaches into his gigantic coffin bag and pulls out a shiny new Titleist blade and starts taking chunks out of the earth the size of a small dog and the ball is quite literally going every bit of 22 feet. Oddly even though the ball is going only 22 feet it is going right, left, topped, shank. My boy had no ball control even at 22 feet. I am kind of happy now watching the big goon struggle. I am about to ask "Hey, you and I ought to go tear up the short game area after you are done with your bucket". But I resist.

I keep switching targets and building a new alignment station and I am hitting lots of balls off of tees because the ground is so very wet. Next door the visor king keeps switching clubs and with each switch his ball striking gets poorer. His searing 22 foot 3 irons are replaced by soft floating 12 foot wedges. His clubs and outfit look so good though. All the "playas' at the range stop in to see him and drool over his new clubs. He gives them the spiel about how workable they are and how easily customized they are due to their soft forging. How the shafts took 3 extra weeks to get installed due to his specs. He refuses to hit any balls in front of his friends, always wandering off to get a water, or to chat with someone else. Then when they depart he comes back to his station and starts again with his wombat practice routine.

Eventually his frustration seems to get the best of him and he disappears into the pro- shop (I guess I can call it that) for a much needed rest. I have about a dozen balls left and have been really pleased with how well I was swinging. I am out of things to work on and I don't want to waste these last 12 balls.....

There is a floodlight on the right side of the range about 160 yards out and 40 feet up. I decide to just hit 6 irons and see if I can hit the aluminum frame of the lighting rig. Maybe hit the actual bulb.....

So I start aiming out to the right and it would be rude if I had a neighbor on the range, but he has gone inside to align his visor and talk swing weights with a homeless guy. So I just start firing right over the wombat's station. And being arrogant and unfriendly has caught up with me because the third ball I catch fat. Like fatter than the wombat has been hitting them. The real bad part is the immense spray of grass, mud, and sand was blocked by wombat's golf bag and Titleist beach towel. Like, brown projectile vomit all over his gear.

I quickly switched targets, finished up, and headed home. I passed wombat as I returned my basket and gave him a nod. I feel awful about it, but no way was I going to use my lucky golf towel to try to clean up his equipment.

Visor wearing prick deserved it anyway.

Next time I see him I am going to hand him some little packs of M&M's and remind him to say trick or treat if he is gonna wear a costume. That moron could not play his way out of a wet paper bag.


Blogger Eric said...

No kidding. The guys that dress up like that are always the worst at golf. I remember playing a par 3 course with a friend of mine one time when this man wheeled his cart up to the tee with us. He seriously had like 70 clubs in his bag, and wore those golf knickers with the socks pulled up.

I figured he had to be pretty good and he was the only one playing so we told him he could play through. He had an extremely long pre-swing routine taking forever to hit the ball. When he finally did he skulled it about 30 yards. I think he shot like a 10 on the par 3 hole. We were stuck behind him all day long and it took us 4 hours to play a par 3 course that normally would take us both an hour and a half.

Last time I ever make that mistake again.  


Blogger TastyKeish said...

I don't know anything about golf, but I love stories about idiots. Good one!  


Blogger Desmond Goh said...

You find guys like him all the time in nearly every corner of the world. They come in like a bad orange and soon more and more people will somehow behave like them in retaliation. But it makes me laugh when you gave him the brownish mud all over his brand new gears. hahahahaha!!!!  


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Real funny story... i'm the dude with the visor and I had a feeling you were the one that messed my stuff up... sorry that you don't like my outfits... but i'm just as freaked out by your pink stand bag...

just kidding... great story...



Anonymous wedgehead said...


It's so true. The clowns that worry more about how they look and how expensive their gear is always have the worst swing.

I have a problem too, an intolerance to stupidity.

I always get these jokers in front of me at my local muni who take 10 practice swings before shanking one into the trees. I can't help but start firing warning shots across the bow of the USS Slowplay.

If I had an experience with a guy like that on the chipping green, I think I would be in-advertantly shank 1 of 4 in his "comfort-zone".  


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Lately, my local range has been overrun with loudtalkers and their friends. I'm used to their normal mutterings. Lately, it's unbearable. All have been struck deaf AND HAVE TO MAKE SURE WE ALL CAN HEAR HOW THEY REALLY CLOBBERED THAT ONE HAHAHAHA. WTF? I never go when it's crowded. That's just doom. There can be no effective concentration in a gaggle of blurting sheeple.

What can I do about these idiots? I refuse to fight someone dumber than me, so I don't confront them with it verbally. I usually pick up my balls and move to the closest quiet zone. I mutter "shut the FUCK up" semiaudibly so they might subliminally get the clue. Maybe if I brought an airhorn can, wait for them to emit a nice irritating 90 dB guffaw, and blast at them with a 130 dB toot while smiling maniacally. I'd make sure they don't look anything like Michael Douglas before I do this. I have a feeling if I did that they'd shut the fuck up.  


Blogger The Village Idiot said...

I was at a range in Northern Kentucky and these two morons were planning each shot based on the course they normally play.

moron 1: "OK, here we are on number seven, know how it bends to the left?"
moron 2: "No, seven bends to the right, past that little brook..."
Moron 1: "No, that's nine..."

So, once they got that figured out:
Moron 1: "So what we want to do is hit a nice fade to the right"
Moron 2: "No, a draw goes to the right"

and on it went. Once they agreed, they'd step up to hit the shot they'd envisioned and each shot was almost indentical to the one before it: giant slice.  


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