Op-ed: Tennis, the King of Games (and Golf, Perhaps the Duke)

Mirth Matters

“I’m thinking of toying with the idea of contemplating the possibility of perhaps taking up golf,” I announced decisively to my friend Karthik, an avid golfer. “You should,” he replied enthusiastically. “It’s the king of games.”

I said: “Don’t get carried away. Tennis is the king of games. It’s also the queen.” I added quickly before he could chope that for his game, “as well as prince. Golf comes much lower down the ladder. Take duke if you like,” I offered generously.

For no reason, the man bristled. Golf players are often short-tempered like that, I’ve noticed.

“Then why are you taking up the game?” he snapped.

“Not taking up,” I said. “Thinking of perhaps doing so. To explain the reason, I have to resort to poetry.” 

Taking a deep breath filled with gravitas, I recited this poem I’d written in my youth:

When my serve has lost its power,

And my volley its vim;

When my strokes have no more vigour,

And my sight has grown dim.

When my shorts have become too tight

For my bulging belly,

Which jiggles left and jiggles right,

Like raspberry jelly.

When I can’t sit down once I rise,

Or get up once I sit;

And my concept of exercise

Is to walk a little bit.

When my muscles have become weak

And soft like fresh sponge cake;

And my bones have begun to creak

With every move I make.

When I’m plagued with arthritis,

And racked with whooping cough;

That’s when I’ll give up tennis,

And take up playing golf.

When I finished, I expected applause. It was not forthcoming. Instead, I got a scowl.

Apart from being short-tempered, golfers are also not an appreciative bunch. On the tennis court, it’s commonplace to hear shouts of “Great shot!”, “Too good!” and “What a volley!”. But in the sepulchral silence of the golf course, even breathing loudly is frowned upon. (Luckily, the game doesn’t cause it.)

“So coming back to the question you angrily asked me,” I continued, “I have osteoarthritis in my knees. I’ve had to cut down on my tennis. I don’t have a whooping cough yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Instead of commiserating with tears in his eyes, the man bristled once more – I tell you, these golfers! 

“Golf is a very demanding game,” he said, his words tumbling over each other in emotion. “It requires immense concentration, shoulder rotation, wrist control, and the delicate synchronisation of hips and knees.”

“Basically it sounds like doing yoga with a stick,” I said.

“Yoga?!” He looked shocked and took two seconds to continue. “Do you even realise the extent of nonsense you’re talking? Answer me this: does yoga require walking?

“No, it’s all done on a stupid mat. But golfers walk several kilometres each game!”

I replied: “So do people in shopping malls – and we don’t call shopping a sport.”

“Do shoppers hire trainers?” he snapped. “Most decent golfers do. And while on that topic, let me tell you, Phil Mickelson’s trainer recently said that elite golfers are among the fittest athletes in sport!”

“And Phil Mickelson is playing at the age of 54,” I said; then added, “and before you attribute that to his training and trainer, let me point out that many golfers play well into their forties. Tiger Woods retired young; then came back to golf… and won the Masters at the age of 43! But in tennis, even exceptionally long careers, such as Federer’s and Nadal’s, end before the age of 40.”

He glared at me, his face flushed. “Utter nonsense!” he almost screamed. “Age is just a number – don’t throw that at me. Golf builds character.”

My blurting out a few innocent truths in the spirit of making lively conversation seemed to have really frayed this golfer’s delicate nerves. I really needed to calm him down.

“Of course it does,” I said soothingly. “Absolutely. And that’s exactly what I’m looking for at this stage in life, building sterling character, not quick movement, sharp reflexes and steely endurance. Now that I’m 64, character development through golf seems the right choice for me, a pleasant way to play out the 18th hole of life.” 

Even these reasonable words, spoken with saintly patience, did nothing to calm the man. His face flushed crimson, he stood up abruptly, knocking over his beer.

“If you take up golf,” he spluttered, “Don’t expect me to play with you! I’m off to the driving range – I need to calm my nerves.”

He stormed off towards the exit, walking briskly… for a golfer. The average shopper walks faster.

Paddy Rangappa, an ex-CEO, is a humour writer, co-host of the podcast Jest Business, and corporate coach on humour for leaders (www.jestbusiness.com)