lucy wightman

The Hingham High School Golf Team

Golf is a culture of kindness and gentle hellos.  Course rangers herd any tipsy, summer players respectfully along.  Those in loud company shush them, but the intermittent and congratulatory whoop is tolerated for a great shot.

Yesterday some high school teams were out on the course, a common occurrence on Thursdays.  After convening with their respective coaches, the walk out in foursomes.  Maybe it really is good to walk as if drying cement were on your feet.

I walked myself to the “forward tee” to wait for the men in front of me to hit their drives from way up top.  I was surprised when I saw a girl sideways on the tee box, leaning on one arm, talking on her cell phone.  Seeing me she continued talking so I interrupted her.

“Are you OK?” I asked rhetorically.

Without moving she looked up and said, “Oh yeah just waiting for them.”  Then quickly back into the flow of the cell phone chat.

“Oh.  Are you with the two men?”

“Yeah,” she answered with no eye contact.

What she meant to say, I am sure, is she was with the three boys from the Hingham High golf team who were driving from the top, now with the two adult men looking/waiting on.  Clogs in the flow are common.

I heard the three balls and a distant clanking, meaning the boys were making their way down the hill.  Meaning, it was time the girl lounging on the tee box snap her cell phone closed and set up her drive.  It was not until the 3 boys arrived that she stood, cocking her head to one shoulder and wedging the conversation so she could address the ball while still chatting.

Off they lumbered, the privileged little people in large bodies.  Eventually I completed the hole with my third birdie in life – three in two weeks, one the day before.

My arrival at the ninth green was within a rare three shots and my adorable white ball nestled in the fringe alone the edge of the watercolor green.  On the other side of the green were about 20 people – ah yes crowds to cheer me in!  The busload of high school golfers stood in clumps laughing and gossiping and doing the typical vigorous interacting that teenagers do.  The coaches, arms folded, caught up in their own huddle.

Since I had a found club in my bag that was baby pink, I thought now was the time to return it to its rightful owner, and surely they would know this was another golfer at the green and to MOVE AWAY FROM THE AREA. 

Oh she was most appreciative and had a nice smile and thank you before returning to the after school program in session on the green’s fringe.  Well, I thought, they certainly are not watching me so I will call it no distraction.  The bank of humans could move at any moment though.  Or suddenly find me there.  It was not a finish worthy of three fabulous shots to the green fringe.  The ball was magnetically charged towards them.

Golf’s backbone is etiquette.  The rules are taught, not known, and examples followed until they become a golfer’s seventh sense.  The teaching offered this day by the Hingham High golf coaches was well below any pay scale. 

When and if this golf team from Hingham shows in a tournament with high school golfers owning a modicum of etiquette, the Hingham High School team will likely be an embarrassment to the town of Hingham.  That would be an unfair experience because the “coaching” sets the pace.

Herding by rangers with coaches present would be horrible golf etiquette.