Golf Life: What men talk about on the course, revealed
Every time I go golfing with my friends, my wife has the same question when I return: “What did you talk about?”. In this edition of Golf Life, the truth of what guys talk about on the course is revealed. And it might be more surprising – and simple – than you’d think.
In a world where we are constantly, and correctly, breaking down barriers between the sexes, there remains one, dare I say it, ‘safe space’ for middle-aged white guys – the golf course.
I don’t mean to suggest that we need a safe space. We don’t. Nor do I wish to get into a broader discussion of PC culture. It is – to use a golfing metaphor – a bottomless pot bunker.
My intent is to demystify what goes on when men engage in a leisurely round of golf. The reason I feel the need for this is because – beyond my wife asking me – movies, TV, and books all seem to think the golf course is where men do their plotting, ranting, and toxic, masculine brooding.
It’s not. It’s not even close to that.
Indeed, it is the exact opposite.
If I have a friend that wants to complain about their job, their personal life, politics, or any other serious topic – well, that guy is probably playing their way out of my next foursome.
Golf is an escape from such things, not a lush green divan upon which we prostrate ourselves and unpack our psyches.
That’s not to say we aren’t nice to each other when we play. In fact, men probably don’t compliment each other more than on the golf course.
Oh sure, we go through the kabuki theater of asking each other about our jobs, families, and life – but we expect that conversation to begin and end between the putting green and the first tee. That’s it. No exceptions.
So what do we talk about? Let’s rip the cover off this thing! I’m ready to expose the white, suburban male, country club golfer for the deplorable he really is!
Ready? Here it is.
We talk about golf.
Oh sure, we talk about other things, too. Things like sports and perhaps a few movie quotes that make us giggle. There might even be an in-depth review of a good meal someone recently had. But mostly, every conversation longer than a sentence or two is about the game itself.
How can that be? Well, golf provides a litany of topics much broader than some may think. Topics include course conditions, weather, equipment, handicap system anomalies, and swing critiques; among many others. There may also be a discussion of the latest PGA results, rules changes, or possibly course history and architecture.
It would bore my wife to tears.
“Did you ask so-and-so how their wife and kids are doing?”
“No. No, I didn’t.”
“Well, that’s not very friendly.”
“I assume if he wanted to tell me something, he would have.”
“Men are weird.”
Yes. Yes, we are.
Even the “business round” is incongruously devoid of business. It’s more about creating a personal bond than a professional one. In this setting, questions of work and personal life are allowed, but the answers are intentionally boring and non-committal. It’s like watching football coaches talk about their upcoming opponents.
That’s not to say we aren’t nice to each other when we play. In fact, men probably don’t compliment each other more than on the golf course.
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“Oh, great swing there.”
“Man, that was a super lag.”
“You are really striking it well today.”
“Boy, your driver’s on fire!”
We even compliment each other on our fashion sense.
“You were smart to wear waterproof shoes.”
“That’s a cool hat. What course is that?”
“I like your new bag. How many beers can you fit in that cooler pocket?”
“Bold choice on the neon green shirt. You’re crushing it.”
Okay, that last one was probably said drenched in sarcasm. But you get the idea.
It’s important to remember that this fashion gabfest has the context of taking place on the golf course. Try walking up to your neighbor while he’s raking leaves and say, “Do those shorts breathe well? They sure look like they do.” It can get awkward quickly.
It’s not all polite golf talk. We also trash-talk each other – endlessly. The kind of insults that would make a prison guard blush. No matter how old you are, if you are playing with old friends you immediately revert to your most immature college self. It doesn’t matter if your foursome is comprised of a U.S. Senator, a CEO, a freelance copywriter, and a barista; everyone gets the same treatment – and respect.
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I always come home with a smile – score be damned. And, inevitably, my wife asks, “Did you play well?”
“No, Ray Charles would have beaten me today.”
Empathetically, she replies, “Well, did you have fun?”
“Yeah, it was a great day,” I’ll say with a tired smile.
“What’d you guys talk about?”
“Just how lucky we are to be married to our wives, the deteriorating situation in Syria, and the moral implications of gene replacement therapy.”
“You’re such a liar.”
Yes. Yes, I am.