Talking to golf balls

I learned to play golf, as much as I ever learned to play the game, on a nine-hole, par 3 course at San Diego Naval Hospital when I was stationed there.

One bit of excellent golf advice I received, shortly before I needed it, came from the person teaching me to play.

The course was strictly peaks and valleys and if you missed the green the ball was likely to roll very lone distances.

I'm not too wrong in saying that only the fence around the course kept errant shots from rolling to San Diego Bay or Balboa Park.

On the day I received the advice mentioned earlier my fairly decent shots were rolling extreme distances.

"What on earth are you supposed to do when this keeps happening?," I exclaimed.

The person teaching me to play replied, "Just keep swinging, son, and don't start swearing."

My teacher wasn't a golf pro. He was a Navy chaplain.

I've heard golf balls called some awful names by errant golfers while covering matches or tournaments.

I thought of this Sunday while watching the final round of the Masters. Thank goodness everything players or spectators say to golf balls aren't captured by the television microphones.

About all we really hear from the spectators comes from that leather-lunged fan just as a putt is on way urging the ball to "Get in the hole!"

On the day I received my advice from the chaplain I hadn't sworn at the golf ball but it probably hadn't been remotely close to "Oh my goodness!"