The Nine Lessons by Kevin Alan Milne Read Free Book Online

first, but he roped me into it by pronouncing our deal null and void lest I join him to discuss our so-called golf lesson.
    “So,” he said casually, once we were seated inside, sipping Cokes, “do you feel like you learned anything from our lesson today?”
    “Not really,” I said honestly.
    “Bugger. I was so sure you would. Oh, well, it was fun golfing again, right?”
    “Yes, great fun. Have you seen the blisters on my hands from swinging that stupid putter?” I held them up for him to get a good look. “What did I shoot, like 200?”
    He glanced down at the scorecard lying on the table. “Yeah, about that. Plus another hundred on hole number three.”
    “I’m not counting those,” I objected. “I would have never kept trying for a hole-in-one if you hadn’t told me to.”
    “You’re right,” he conceded. “I won’t count those. But I sure would have liked to see how many strokes it would take you to get a hole-in-one. I read recently that for the average golfer, the odds of getting a hole-in-one are one in 150,000. Can you imagine hitting that many balls and only sinking one of them?”
    “Nope,” I said, “it would be a complete waste of time even trying.”
    London took a long sip of his drink. “You know, when you think about it, in golf a hole-in-one is perfection. An ace. You just can’t do any better than that. I think it’s every golfer’s dream to have that moment of perfection, when the stars align just right—the swing is perfect, the wind direction is perfect, the club-head speed is perfect—and that little white ball drops out of sight into the cup. After all these years I still haven’t gotten one, and I’ve taken well over 150,000 shots.” He paused to put a toothpick between his lips.
    I set my drink down. “Where are you going with this?” I asked, suspecting that he wasn’t just rambling on for no reason.
    “Going? Nowhere. Not really… it’s just that… do you remember what I always used to say about golf?”
    I rolled my eyes. “You mean that golf is life ? How could I ever forget? You drilled it into me every chance you could! I grew so tried of hearing you say that. Golf may be your life, but it certainly isn’t mine.”
    His entire face frowned. “I’m glad you remember. But I don’t think you understood what I meant back—”
    My shrill laugh cut him off. “If you meant that golf was the most important thing in your life, then I understood perfectly.” I was starting to feel like it was time to go. I’d already had way more golf than I could stomach for one day, and if we were about to start bringing up bad memories of the past, I preferred to not be part of it.
    “It was a metaphor,” he said flatly. “A bloody figure of speech, nothing more. I learned a long time ago that golf could teach me about life, if I was just willing to listen.”
    I laughed again. “Seriously? You’re crazier than I thought. Golf is golf— nothing more . You hit the ball, you lose the ball, and then you go home and curse the man who invented the game.”
    I could sense him tensing, but he kept his emotions in check. “I respectfully disagree.”
    “Oh? Well then, Coach, assuming your little theory about golf is correct, then it stands to reason that I should have learned something today about life, right? But all I learned is that putters suck on the fairways and that I’ll never get a hole-in-one. Why are we even talking about this?” I asked impatiently.
    “Nobody plays golf because they are perfect golfers. Nobody expects to step up and nail a hole-in-one every time. The whole point of golf is not to be a perfect golfer—that’s impossible. The point is to become better over time as you play more and gain experience. It’s like you with that putter today—you improved throughout the day. That’s progress.”
    “And? What’s your point?”
    London placed his drink down abruptly on a coaster and looked right at me. “The point, Augusta Nicklaus, is that