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Thread Starter 
I found this on the discussion board for the World Am. Handicap Champoinship.

In my hand I hold a ball…..
white and dimpled, rather small
Oh, how bland it does appear,
this harmless looking little sphere.

By its size I could not guess,
the awesome strength it does possess.
But since I fell beneath its spell,
I’ve wandered through the fires of hell.

My life has not been quite the same,
since I chose to play this stupid game.
It rules my mind for hours on end,
a fortune, it has made me spend.

It has made me yell and curse and cry.
I hate myself and want to die.
It promises a thing called Par….
if I can hit it straight and far.

To master such a tiny ball,
should not be very hard at all.
But my desires the ball refuses,
and does exactly as it chooses.

It hooks and slices, dribbles and dies,
and even disappears before my eyes.
Often it will take a whim,
to hit a tree or take a swim.
With miles of grass on which to land,
it finds a tiny patch of sand.
Then has me offering up my soul,
if only it would find the hole.

Its made me whimper like a pup,
and swear that I will give it up!
And take to drink to ease my sorrow....
But, alas, the ball knows…
I will be back tomorrow!!