The Art of Slowness: A Love Letter to Municipal Golf Pace of Play
Ah, the municipal golf course—where the game is pure, the prices are reasonable, and the pace of play is legally required to be at least five and a half hours. For those who yearn for a leisurely stroll interrupted by the occasional golf shot, there is truly no better place.
The Majestic First Tee Delay
The municipal golf experience begins with a magical phenomenon known as "the backup on the first tee." While some courses foolishly believe in things like "tee time spacing" or "starter enforcement," our beloved local muni embraces the time-honored tradition of sending out groups every three minutes, regardless of skill level, course conditions, or whether the foursome ahead has finished their pre-round stretching routine.
A Lesson in Patience and Endurance
Playing a round at the local muni is not for the weak. No, it is a test of patience, a spiritual journey akin to a meditative retreat. You may start your round with ambition, hope, and energy, but by the fourth hole, you will have cycled through all five stages of grief as you wait for the group ahead to finish their synchronized pre-shot waggles.
Each hole offers a new, delightful challenge. The foursome ahead is engaged in an existential debate about which ball is one inch farther from the hole. The player in cargo shorts is lining up his fourth putt from three feet, determined to read every blade of grass like he’s solving a Da Vinci Code riddle. And let’s not forget the group ahead of them, conducting a forensic investigation into whether a ball crossed the hazard line—a decision of such gravity that it requires a council vote.
The Time-Honored Ritual of the Mid-Round Fast Food Break
Nothing quite brings a round of golf to a screeching halt like the sacred "turn snack stop." While some people might consider grabbing a quick hot dog and a beverage, the true municipal golf purist knows that the halfway house is an opportunity for a full dining experience. A fifteen-minute wait for an overcooked cheeseburger is not a delay—it’s a tradition. And for those who enjoy a cold beer on the back nine, don't worry: the group ahead is thoughtfully restocking their entire cooler before proceeding to the tenth tee.
The Back Nine Death March
By hole thirteen, reality sets in. Your legs are tired, your swing is deteriorating, and your mental state resembles that of someone who has been lost at sea. The group ahead has apparently adopted match play scoring and is conducting post-shot performance reviews at every turn. Meanwhile, the player in front of you is experiencing an existential crisis over whether his seven-iron can carry 140 yards, despite the last three attempts failing spectacularly.
If you're lucky, the ranger will drive by to "check on things," which is municipal golf code for "drive slowly, shrug, and disappear into the horizon."
The Glorious Finish
As the sun sets and your round nears its seventh hour, you finally reach the 18th green, exhausted, humbled, and questioning your life choices. The final putt drops, and you celebrate the only victory that truly matters: survival. You shake hands with your playing partners, who feel less like casual acquaintances and more like comrades who endured a shared battle.
You vow never to do this again. And yet, next Saturday, there you are—standing on the first tee, ready to embrace the beautiful, excruciatingly slow ballet that is municipal golf.
Because deep down, we all know: if we wanted to play fast, we’d just go bowling.
