Student Publishing Program ::

Trevor Gordon

An Emotional Game

Ahh, I wish I were playing golf.
It is my greatest passion.
It is also my greatest nemesis
The endless hours
of walking and swinging a club
can leave one with a sense of satisfaction,
or just pure anger.
How can one bag contain so much cruelty?
I hit a good shot
and enjoy the sight of the ball
slicing through the air molecules.
But then I hit a bad one.
My ball puts a mask of grass and dirt on
and makes me force it off with a soaked towel.
And then bad thoughts fly through my head,
as if they are in a race.
Don’t hit this one fat!
Man, this is not a good round.
And when I try to block them out,
More thoughts come to support them,
overpowering me.
By this time,
my shot is long over
and I have a dumb look on my face.
I look down but all I see
is a moist clump of earth suffocating my ball.
As more shots of this caliber occur,
I feel myself being suffocated
by the game I love
and hate.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2011 EDITION]