Spilt Wine

I am not much of a golfer. After I graduated high school, my dad got me a job at the golf course where he was a frequent player. He also had given me his old golf clubs, which I learned how to play the game with and still have today. Back then, I played a lot because I had a lot more free time on my plate and not to mention it was free. As I have gotten older I have played less and less because one, I never really fell in love with the game, two I don't have the free time I once had, and three it is no longer free. I usually only play once a year or so. A couple of weeks ago I was invited to play a round with my neighbor which was really enjoyable. Earlier this week, he asked me to play again with him on Saturday. When I woke up yesterday morning, I was thinking that I really wished I had a pair of golf shoes, but since I only play once or twice a year, I didn't want to spend thirty or fifty dollars on a pair. Then a thought occurred to me. I figured I could find a pair of shoes at the second hand store. So later that morning, I made my way to Rescued Treasures second hand store. I was excited to find that they had one pair of golf shoes and became even more ecstatic when I discovered they were my size. So I gladly purchased my rescued treasure for three dollars! When 2PM arrived, I proudly put on my new shoes, with the new inserts I bought earlier. The shoes fit good, they were comfortable, and I looked like a real golfer, rather than some hack who plays once a year in his tennis shoes. After about the third hole, I notices that the right shoe was becoming unglued. I figured I must of damaged it when I ripped the old insert out. Nothing a little super glue couldn't fix when I got back home. After the forth hole, the tear was worsening and I began to wonder if they were going to hold up for another fourteen holes. On the fifth hole something surprised me. The sole of the left shoe began to flap at the heel. I was only able take four or five steps before my cleat caught the grass and ripped the remainder of the sole off. With the sole of my left shoe gone and the sole of my right shoe barely hanging on, I hit my next shot, which was all it took for the right sole to come off. Right there, on the fifth hole both of my soles were gone. I was no longer looking the part. My neighbor looked at me with confusion, not understanding why I was standing there with both soles of my shoes in hand. I ended up playing the next four holes in my socks. Luckily it wasn't obvious because the tops of my shoes were still in tact and securely tied to the top of my feet. I did learned two things from yesterday. One, there is a lot, I mean a LOT of duck poop on a golf course. You would not realize this unless you had to watch every step you took, making sure you didn't step into something unpleasant. And two, if you are going to play the part, you got to spend the money.