I found a set of golf clubs in the basement closet a few days ago.  I didn’t even know I still had those clubs, thought they disappeared into the ether years ago.  Because I’m something of a minimalist and I obviously haven’t used these golf clubs in a few years, they’ll be moving on soon.

Towards the end of high school, my family and I went to my grandparent’s retirement complex in Florida for spring break.  (Go ahead and guess how popular I was, I’ll wait…) There was a golf course there (because Florida) and I put together a working set of clubs from extras other people had.  I’ve played maybe five rounds of golf in my entire life.  I didn’t really like it.  I found it stressful rather than relaxing, hot instead of comfortable, and expensive instead of reasonable.  Golf is one of the few things that when I take it too seriously, I start doing worse, rather than the other way around.  My grandpa gave me some clubs in the hopes that I would be the next Tiger Woods and make millions of dollars.  That plan hasn’t come to fruition yet.

At this point, I have no desire to play golf.  I don’t even know how this justifies a post since there’s no story here.  I’d like to sell what I can but even I know they’re mostly worthless.  I’ll probably give them to Goodwill in the hopes that some other ambitious young person will make it.  

“I was looking through Goodwill for a suit to wear to my job interview” he’ll say.  “I saw this set of golf clubs there you know? and I thought ‘why not?’ Now I’m here as the International Champion of Golf, making millions of dollars, and I owe it all to whatever jaded, uninspired guy left these at Goodwill for me to make my dreams come true.”  The interviewer will start crying, the crowd will go wild, and the Champion of Golf will drive his Bugatti off into the sunset with my old set of golf clubs sticking out of the passenger window.

Well, I’m all about making dreams come true, and I know I’m not putting these golf clubs to any use.