This week we tackled golf talk and what it’s like to umpire your grandkids’ ball games. Wait, can you actually tackle golf? No, there is no tackling in golf, just as there are no mixed metaphors in good writing. But the point is (is there an actual point?) that we apply a lot of sports language to describe different aspects of our lives. We’re all part of the same team (try that the next time you get into a political discussion with a stranger). We need to call a timeout. This employee is punching above her weight class. So and so needs to stay in their lane. We’ve got to pull this one out with some late-game heroics. But no sport is more applicable in describing our stage of life, than the sport of golf. If we’ve heard it once, we’ve heard it a million times, once you pass the age of 50, you are said to be playing the back nine. Now for those of you who know absolutely nothing about golf, the typical course is comprised of 18 holes, so after you “make the turn,” on the 10th hole, you are said to be “playing the back nine.” In other words, approaching the finish line (yet another sports cliche). And it got us to thinking, what’s the rush in finishing? Is it really so bad to slow down and maybe look for a lost ball or two? And maybe the more appropriate metaphor is miniature golf. You know what happens at the 18th and final hole at a mini golf course? You putt the ball in the hole and it goes down a tube, never to be seen again. At least, in regular golf, you go with your buddies to the bar which is almost always called “The 19th Hole.” So you see, life does go on.

In our other strip we are starting a four-part series on umpiring. John and I have a bunch of experience with this topic. I once attended my daughter’s middle school, rec-league softball game only to find that the umpire had neglected to show up. Rather than seeing her team have to forfeit, I volunteered to ump the game myself. Her coach thanked me profusely. That is until the 3rd inning when I called a play dead, preventing one of his players from scoring and sent her back to third base. He came running out on the field and started yelling in my face like he was a big-league manager. I told him if he said one more word, his team (my daughter’s team) would in fact forfeit the game after all. That shut him up. Until I called strike 3 on the next batter. John has faced barbs as both a player and a ref, but more on that as we get deeper into our series. Suffice it to say, people yelling about balls and strikes from the sideline of a kid’s game, have a much worse angle than the ump. And they’re not doing their kids or grandkids any favors. “Adults” should let the kids play and the umps ump. Or at least stop sneaking wine into the sippy cups they’re drinking on the sideline.

That’s it for this week. Have a good one and we’ll be back behind the plate again next with our next two installments.

Andy and John