Ghetto Golf…

“Well the world turns
and a hungry little boy with a runny nose
plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto” – Elvis Presley

I recently played a game on the city’s main municipal course, and let me tell you, it’s a ghetto course. When I use the term “ghetto” I mean ghetto. Typical of something run by government. When you drive pass the projects in your own city, you usually notice how shitty the dwellings look. Usually boxy looking brown brick houses with one small window and the front door always has battering ram marks because of the occupants choice of employment.

Well this golf course was just like that. The shell craters bunkers are half filled with sand, half filled with gravel. Nothing better than chipping a few rocks along with your ball. The best part is, no one removes these rocks off the greens. The ghetto breeds complacency. The grass around the cup is always half an inch longer than the rest of the green, making it look like Agent Orange is the preferred method of grass maintenance.

Crack rock on the course...

Ghetto courses always attract the slow and course marshals are too drunk to notice the 5′somes of old ladies taking their sweet time. The backup at the tee boxes creates small pockets of angry shitty golfers who proceed to play holes where ever they want. This can make the game a little confusing because there’s always someone different in front of you and in back of you.

Another gift that comes with playing ghetto courses is the masses of well dressed, well equipped hackers. Those who pose. It’s amazing how much people spend on their equipment and clothes to create the illusion of professionalism. These fucks hacks always wait for the people to clear the green on a par 4 before teeing off. They then proceed to hit it 70 yards, 6 times before getting on the green. Fuck you look good hitting the ball 126 times. These hacks are usually the guys who tell everyone they hit in the 90′s. These are the guys the golf industry make their millions on. Ghetto rich. Drive a Porsche, but live at home.

Example: At the 13 hole a group of these guys decided to sneak up to the hole in front of us. We hadn’t seen them the whole round so I asked them “Where the fuck did you guys come from”? since I don’t take it very lightly when someone slows up my game. They responded with “I was going to ask you the same question”. The Jedi mind trick worked and I got confused for a second. Then I realized they weren’t smart enough to snake us and they were just playing the wrong hole. Dude… that’s why they number the holes. And of course both dudes power drove their balls (hack posers always use the biggest, baddest drivers like it’s an extension of their dicks) into the woods. We allowed them to proceed and followed them for two more holes. At the 16th hole they teed up and once again power drove onto the other fairway. Best part about it, they tee’d off the wrong way. How embarrassing. You have a set of Cobra’s, Nike everything, visor and GPS range finding system and you still can’t figure out which direction to hit the ball. Get the fuck off the course and stick to your driving ranges where I know you practice and practice your long fuckin’ drives so you can boast about your long fuckin’ drives.

Mr. Hooper...finding his balls

This post was created by Hoopenfaust, slapped on this page May 27, 2009 at 4:15 am, filed under Ghetto Golf, Golf Etiquette. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any trash talk RSS feed for this post.