In about 2008 I was assigned to an Air Base in West Texas where the country cĺub gave military memberships at a deep discount.
I had until then played exactly one game of golf at age 11. There was an ammo drought so I decided to take golf lessons. For a while I went to the driving range every day and drove unlimited buckets of balls, but sadly with no improvement. My form can be best described as beating the earth with a stick.
It got to the point that the grounds crew cringed when they saw my truck pull into the parking lot. Bar patrons were warned to not sit on the patio when I was practicing.
Management gave me free drink tickets in an attempt to keep me off the links.
My associates were relieved when I volunteered to drive the beer cart at tournaments. There was a collective sigh of relief when ammo became available again.
My one golf club now hangs on the wall, right next to the once-used tennis racket.