This golfer’s wish list for Santa isn’t par for the course

Dear Santa,

I don’t imagine you’re getting to play much golf these days, seeing as how it’s a bit chilly up there and all. Pity. You should try where I live – the reindeer would like it, too, although their main interest in a golf course would be eating it.

Anyway, I wanted to give you a special Christmas wish list, one designed specifically for a golfer. Yeah, I know we’re a little crazy, but that’s why you need a different sort of list from us. We’re the only sport where less is always more.

Let me start by saying what I DON’T need: golf balls. Living on a golf course is like being in Santa’s workshop – but instead of watching the toys multiply, you watch your stock of golf balls grow like Christmas trees. It’s the gift that keeps on giving year-round.

But I can think of plenty of other things that I really, really need. Some might be a tough find for you, but I hear you have mystical powers – sort of like Brooks Koepka in a major.

First and foremost, and finally and once and for all, I need a putting stroke I can trust. I’m doing my part: I’m getting fitted for a new putter right after the holidays. But maybe you could send me some sort of mental telepathy – it should fit in the chimney, no problem – that will help me be more confident on the greens.

It’s an awful feeling to stand over a 10-foot eagle putt and think more about not three-putting for par than one-putting for a 3. That happened to me the other day. I had hit two magnificent shots to get to the rear pin location and had a very makeable opportunity for eagle. It was uphill and wasn’t going to break much.

And yet I couldn’t get the gremlins out of my head. Charge it, I thought, and I could have a downhill knee-knocker for my birdie. I’ve been putting so poorly lately, I had a bad feeling about what might happen in that situation.

So I committed the cardinal sin of eagle putts – I left it short. It stopped right in front of the hole. And here’s the worst part of all: I was relieved. I was happy with birdie. Now that’s a losing attitude.

Maybe a new putter will inject some sorely needed positive thoughts into my addled brain the next time I have a putt like that. That’s my No. 1 gift, Santa. I’m not quite sure how you construct a gift like that, but maybe one of the elves knows. I hear they have an excellent short game.

The next thing I need is a radar system for my driver – or maybe a personality transplant, but a radar system seems easier to make.

Again, those gremlins are nasty critters. You stand over the ball, and they’re having a lively conversation back and forth.

“Don’t go left!”

“Don’t go right!”

“Watch out for that tree!”

“What are you going to have for lunch?”

“How are you going to get that work project done?”


Maybe a radar system would quiet the gremlins. I could just listen to ground control: “One-two-niner, gotcha on runway 18, bring ’er in nice and smooth right down the middle.”

Finally, Santa, I need to give something to all the other golfers out there. (See how generous I am?) I need you to help them all realize the joys of playing golf quickly and efficiently. I’m sure you don’t like waiting on every shot, either. It’s as bad as having a stalled sleigh – maybe worse, from a golfer’s perspective.

They don’t need three practice swings. One, tops. They don’t need to examine every putt from four angles. But what they do need is to be ready when it’s their turn.

Think how much happier the world would be if every golf course moved right along. Golfers would have more time to take their kids to the mall for a visit with you.

I just realized something, Santa. We already have the greatest game ever invented, so who are we to ask for anything more? I take it all back – I really don’t need anything. I’m the guy who has it all.

Well, maybe that putting stroke would be a nice stocking stuffer. The only downside is that it might cause us to not think of you as often. Whenever I announce that I’m going to knock in this putt, my playing partners have one thought on their minds:

Ho ho ho.

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