Golf is a mental sport; it's 5% physical strength and 95% etiquette. I was taught this lesson in high school.
Here's a story for the kids:

Junior year in high school I was practicing on the putting green alone one day when an old(er) gentleman joined in on the opposite side of the green. This man was a serious golfer. I can tell by the way tucked his polo shirt into his trousers. Legit.
The putting green is a place where silence is necessary, but especially for serious golfers.

I was trying really hard to focus in order to improve my putt. I honestly can't remember the last time I focused this intensely on an object. Didn't blink once, not even for a second; I lifted my arms in a pendulum like motion and in order to gently tap the ball.

As I was about to tap, a rumbling crescendo of gaseous explosion ricocheted through his derriere. It ruined my "tap" and turned it into a "shank".

In English: the guy farted and fucked up my swing. My ball went flying.

My involuntary reaction: I laughed. Out loud. I couldn't manage my laughter. I felt incredibly juvenile, but come on…that fart echoed the park.

My laughter was interrupted when the old(er) gentleman looked up and glared at me; so much hate in just one glance. I don't know why, but I was embarrassed. I decided to pack up and fetched the golf ball I had shanked because of that detonation and go home.

As I was walking out with my head down, I heard a little chuckle. I turned around. It was coming from that hypocrite.
What now?


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