golfing with the dalai lama

Charles and I first met at the Dalai’s abode.  Within the first several minutes, Chuck and I found ourselves deep in a punning exchange. I think it was about cameras (a topic that “lens” itself to puns), but over the years, the range has been wide, and as you can imagine, golfing can provide many opportunities.

After all, isn’t it a “fairway” to pass the time?

Anyway, the Dalai refrains from punning. But, he enjoys it and smiles. Dalai smiles a lot.

Next: What you can learn, when you play against someone you can’t beat.

Charles, more than the Dalai, and I had a competitive streak. The Dalai played the course, of course, except when he “had to” grind.

Anyway, since the Dalai was typically a stroke or more better per hole than Chuck and I (even if we scrambled), we had to devise ways to compete against the Dalai.  Chuck and I had our own competitive nature outside of golfing, mostly in the confines of a racquetball court.

At one point, we developed a set of rules intended to make sure “we” had an advantage over the Dalai.  Some of it was so foreign to the Dalai’s nature, that he had no choice but to allow the winning and losing to run its course. After all, he really didn’t care.  He enjoyed our gimics.

So, here’s a couple of the rules – If said participant clearly hits a good shot or putt, but the next player has an even better shot or putt, the second said participant shall say “Get That Weak Sh*t Out of Here” to the first said participant.  (That was later Acronymized to GTWSOH.)

Second rule – If said participant clearly hits an outstanding shot, or makes a putt over the length of 15 feet, he shall announce “You Can’t Beat That!”

Should the announcements not take place, then said participants are given two-stroke penalties.

As you might imagine – in the racquetball space, these taunts would become much louder and quite pointed, with shaking racquets and victory laps.

Next: NCAA Punning Championships

One “event” that the Dalai, Chuck and I used to play was on a particular Par 5, which had a wide open fairway was the “Thunderbirds from the Tee.”

Somewhere in the Dalai’s past, he had a passion to fly airplanes (not many people know that about the Lama).  He, I believe, actually had his license at one point.  But, I think the Dalai’s golf fanaticism only allowed him enough time for one focus (kind of a meditation).  However, I do see the single-focus meditation applying to both those avocations.

Anyway, on the 14^th hole, the three of us would tee it up together. Lined up in the center of the tee-box would be Dalai, with me right behind him (tee almost at his heels) and Chuck facing the Dalai.  The Dalai would give the count down “3, 2, 1” and we’d all hit our shots at the same time.

This, I guess, could be equated to a forced meditation. You can’t just “allow” this, but you have to make the focus happen. My guess is that our baseball backgrounds allowed for this. Kind of goes along with the chatter situation.

Now, the real reason we called in Thunderbirds goes back to the flying – the Thunderbirds being the aerobatic flying team of the Air Force.  Then, the visual connection came when the balls would perform similarly – each taking off and with some synchronization, they’d split into multiple directions.  The Dalai down the middle, Charles (the lefty) slicing to the left and me slicing to the right.  The views were magnificent.

How I miss those days of camaraderie.

Next: The Ill-Marketing, Non-Communicative Rules of Golf

When I putt, I try not to think of too much. In fact, the more I think, the worse I putt.  To me, it’s all about being comfortable.

Heck, I don’t even really like to read the green much, or think about speed, or even worry where the water is (how the ball will turn towards it, I’m told).

Nope, it’s all feel. Kind of like Chevy Chase on Caddy Shack. Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na.

At one point, Dalai, Chuck and I would carry a Video Recorder (Beta) with us on the course.  It was fun reviewing the footage afterwards, plus giving commentary during the round.  Dalai would use it as an analysis tool for his swing.  Chuck and I weren’t that refined.  We had the Lee Travino approach – hit it, find it, hit it again.

Anyway, since the video camera was property of the company I was working for at the time, I was really the only one with experience shooting.  So, at one point, I was trying to explain the functionality of the camera to Dalai and Chuck, so they could take some footage of me.

On a long putt attempt (40+ feet) on an extremely undulating green, I hovered over my putt with Chuck holding the camera behind me. I felt it. I hit it. I went in.

I jumped for joy and knew it was on video. Saved forever!  So, I pulled the camera from Chuck to view the feat.  But, he had failed to hit the right button, and, alas, no video.

I then put the camera on the ground behind the ball, made reference to their ineptitude to technology, and how they missed my fabulous putt. Of course, their conversation was something to the effect that it never happened.  After all, who would know?

So, I stood over the putt again. Centered myself. Then, drained that baby again!

Golf is who you play and where you play – not the score. If you’re with friends and having fun, either the score will come, or you won’t care.

At one point, when we were in shape, the Dalai Lama, our friend Charles, and I played “Running  One-Club.”  We’d choose a club, only one (and you had to putt with it), then jog around the course.

Some interesting tid-bits – you needed to be careful about the club.  For instance, the Par 3 16^th was about 185 over water.  Of course, you could play it to the right, if you wanted, but Par 3’s, of course, were opportunities to score.

The Dalai developed a putting stance, on his knees, choking up to almost the blade.  He really was a grinder extraordinaire.

One time, before I understood how tough golf is, I became known as “The Shotmaker.”  On a double-dog leg par 5, using my 3-iron, I had pulled my third shot to the left, with some very tall trees between me and the green – and only about 50 yards away.  Anyone with any sense would have punched it out to the middle of the fairway, then tried to punch it again to the green.

But, I chose to open my stance and take a swipe under the ball, dropping my right shoulder almost perpendicular to the ground. Voila! it went up and over the trees and on to the green.  Today, of course, not only wouldn’t I try it, but if I did, now knowing the difficulty of the task, I’d probably blade it deep into the woods. Reminds me of a Guy Clark song: “He did not know he could not fly – so he did.”