My Clubs Got Stolen During Prime Golf Season And I’m Now A Broken Man

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My Friday morning started as any other Friday. I woke up at the ass crack of dawn, pooped, and went back to bed until around 8:30. I knew something was amiss though when I couldn’t seem to fall back asleep. Like something was just tugging at me to get up and start getting ready for the day. I shamelessly brushed off that feeling as nothing more than excitement that it was Friday and I was working from home. Aka breeze by until just after lunch and start the weekend. However, things were about to take a turn for the worse.

I had made my way downstairs to take the dog out after my breakfast. We did our routine of walk around the block to get the legs and creative juices flowing when I saw it. My car windshield shattered to the ground. As I dashed to my car, dog in tow, countless things ran through my mind, like what items did I leave in there that are valuable. Then I got to my car and my heart sunk. I fell to my knees, arms in the air, and screamed, “Why, God, why?!” My dog gave me a weird look, but he didn’t know the gravity of the situation. The reality is that here I am, in the prime season for golf, and some monster stole my clubs.

Not having your clubs during the summer is one of the worst things a man can endure. Saturdays spent with the boys, cracking cold ones, and sinking putts? That’s no more. Am I supposed to spend it going shopping for bedding and backyard decorations with the misses? My conscience can’t handle that. Imagine a Saturday spent at Bed, Bath, And Beyond comparing the exact same sheets with two different colors while you’re checking Snapchat and your friends are Stone Colding some brews on the 5th green. That’s torture. No mind can handle that.

What am I to do? I have a scramble coming up and all that’s left of my golf club collection is an old set that’s been rotting away in the closet. All it consists of is a hybrid and a set of irons which only have the 5,6,8,PW, and GW in it. I didn’t know what to do. I was in shambles. Do I try and play with this set and hope nobody makes fun of me? Do I go out and get a quick replacement set? I couldn’t move on to a new set without putting my old, now stolen clubs, 6-feet deep in the ground. What if they are still alive? I can’t give up my search just now.

To the person out there who took my clubs: Know that I have a particular set of skills. Skills that I have acquired over a very short career. Skills that don’t really make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my clubs go down, this will be the end of it. Just know that I will find you and I will beat you.

Or I could just choose death.

Image via Shutterstock

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