A Short History of The Golf Gimme  

Short putts are the Bermuda Triangle of golf. Just ask Scott Hoch who missed a 2 foot putt to lose the 1989 Masters. Missing a short putt is like fumbling at the goal line, dropping a pop up for the final out, or driving across the country to discover Wally World is closed. It is devastating.

Fortunately, amateur golfers have a vaccine for these blown putts, a get out of jail free card, it’s called a “gimmie”. It works like this. You are standing over a three-foot putt to save par. Sweat is running down your back into your Tommy Johns and dread is creeping into your fragile psyche. You are agonizing over the proverbial question, “Do I ease it in or ram it home?” Then suddenly you hear those magic words, “That’s good, pick it up.”

Accepting a gimmie is easy. Before your conscience sets in, quickly pick up your ball and slink off the green like a shoplifter exiting a convenience store.

On the other hand, conceding a putt is more complicated than judging figure skating. Is the golfer worthy? Is the ball within the so-called circle of friendship or just a distant cousin? What is reasonable distance? An arms-length? A size 12 golf shoe? The height of your average circus midget?  There is no definitive rule. It is an art.

Some guys are generous and hand out gimmies like after dinner mints, sometimes even before the lag putt has stopped rolling. I love these guys. They are the Mother Theresa’s of golf.

The other mothers of golf are the players who would rather donate a kidney than concede a putt. These are the guys who keep score in ink, who use a pocket calculator to split the lunch tab, and who believe a gimmie is an assault on the integrity of the game. Keep in mind, this is a game typically played by hackers in baggy shorts who have already taken two mulligans and several foot wedges just to survive the front nine. What integrity?

So, if you struggle with administering a gimmie, here are some helpful guidelines.

Daylight Savings Time
The foursome waiting in the fairway has been watching your group blast from one greenside bunker to another, chunk chips, plumb bob, and debate who putts next. This is more frustrating than waiting for a senior citizen to back out of a parking space at Walmart. Just grab your balls and get off the green. All the putts are good.

Code Blue
Your playing partner is on life support. He has landed in every bunker, splashed in every pond, and bounced off more trees than a squirrel on crack. You cannot bear to see him take another stroke. It is your civic duty to stop the bleeding and administer the Kevorkian gimmie. No range limitations in this case. If his ball is closer to the hole than to Akron Ohio, it’s good. Knock it away before he tries to hit it again.

 

Nothing at Stake
Pros putt out because they are playing for big money, coveted trophies, and trophy wives. For the average golfer, missing or making a short putt is more meaningless than a cup of decaf coffee or a political campaign promise. Give him the putt. There is no good reason not to.

 

Reward
The guy has stroked a winding 125-foot putt from just off the green to within three feet of the hole. Reward him. Let him pick it up. He earned it. It is better than watching him lip out, melt down, and try to disembowel himself with his putter.

 

Human Kindness
Your buddy helps you tune up your car, mows your lawn when you are on vacation, and laughs at all your dumbass jokes. You owe him that testy three-footer as a gesture of friendship. It is golf’s version of sending a fruit basket.

 

No Mercy
If you are embroiled in a highly competitive match and your opponent has been talking smack, there is no such thing as a gimmie. Make him putt every putt. It’s Cobra Kai time, it’s time to sweep the knee.

 

Retribution
If the player is an obnoxious blowhard, an arrogant know-it-all, or a despicable cheat, there are no gimmies. The circle of friendship only extends to the rim of the cup.

 

Conclusion
Gimmies have been prevalent throughout history and occur every day of our lives. The Ruler of Greece once told famed sculptor, Calamitous, that his Venus di Milo statue was so beautiful there was no need to finish the arms. True. A gimmie is when a traffic cop pulls you over and only gives you a warning or when the grocery store clerk honors your expired coupon without price checking your Adult Depends over the store microphone.

However, let the record show that not all gimmies are desirable. Last night, in the middle of a rare but passionate love making session, just as I was about to enter the launch cycle, just as I was pondering the proverbial question, just as I was about to ecstatically self-proclaim “you da man”, my wife stopped me and said, “That’s good, dear, pick it up.”

So, remember, if someone does not graciously accept a gimmie, do not be offended. Understand that sometimes in the game of golf and in life, to derive a full sense of satisfaction, a man needs to hear the rattle of the ball at the bottom of the cup. Sometimes, you just need to putt it out.

Beer Freak

I drink a different beer every day of the week
Some think I am a crazy freak
Friday after work I have a Labatt Blue
If I feel like a real hoser, I'll have a Molson Canadian too
Saturday I drink a Rocky Mountain Coors
That's when I party with all the beautiful whores
Sunday it's time for an ice cold Miller
That is when I stay home and watch something funny like Ben Stiller
Monday I start at the local bar with a Stroh's
Much like Homer drinking a Duff down at Moe's
Tuesday after gym I have a Budweiser
It's smooth after using the exerciser
Wednesday it's Foster's, they call it Australian for beer
If I don't have one you'll hear me jeer
It's Thursday now, out of money, send a mayday
I'll have to wait till tomorrow when it's payday
Due to my drinking blitz
until them I am stuck drinking Schlitz

A Young Man and a Priest

A young man and a priest are playing together. At a short par-3 the priest asks, "What are you going to use on this hole, my son?"

The young man says, "An 8-iron, father. How about you?" The priest says, "I'm going to hit a soft seven and pray."

The young man hits his 8-iron and puts the ball on the green. The priest tops his 7-iron and dribbles the ball out a few yards.

The young man says, "I don't know about you, father, but in my church, when we pray, we keep our head down."

Golf

In My Hand I Hold A Ball,
White And Dimpled, Rather Small.
Oh, How Bland It Does Appear,
This Harmless Looking Little Sphere.

By It's 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, 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 Have 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.

It's Made Me Whimper Like A Pup,
And Swear That I Will Give It Up.
And Take To Drink To Ease My Sorrow,
But The Ball Knows . .. . I'll Be Back Tomorrow.

I Got Beer!

I may not have a Q.P.A.
and I may never graduate
But I don't care, I don't care
Cause I got beer, I got beer!
I may never marry a fashion model
I may never win an Olympic medal
But I don't care, I don't care
Cause I got beer, I got beer!
I may not have any ambitions
I may lack any strong passions
But I got no fear, I got no fear
Cause I got beer, I got beer!
I may be forever be in debt
A good job, I never will get
But one thing is certainly clear
I got beer, Yeah, I got beer!
I may not be able to read a book
My destiny may be as a fast food cook
But I don't care, I don't care
Cause I got beer, I got beer!
I may never be lucky at love
I may never own much stuff
But I got no fear, got no fear
Cause I got beer, I got beer!
Heineken, Labatt, Miller or Old Milwaukee
It all depends on if I got any money
Cause I don't care, I got no fear
As long as I got beer, I got beer!

Little White Golf Ball

Little white golf ball please tell me of the trick
to hitting you down the middle with this skinny little stick.

I try to keep my left arm straight - my head is always down -
but still I see my best attempt go dribbling on the ground.

Why do I pull you to the left, or slice you to the right?
What will it take to hit you straight until you're out of sight?

The money spent on lessons - all the practice balls I hit
only adds to my frustration when it doesn't help a bit.

For even when I do things right it only lasts a while.
It never seems like very long before I lose my smile.

Little golf ball please tell me of the trick
to hitting you down the middle with this skinny little stick.

Are you Honest?

A golfer is having a terrible round. Every shot is going awry. Finally, he looks at his caddie and says, "I've never played this badly in my life!" The caddie replies, "Oh, you have, sir. You just haven't been this honest before."

Wedding

The bride was escorted down the aisle and when she reached the altar, the groom was standing there with his golf bag and clubs at his side.

She said: "What are your golf clubs doing here?"

He looked her right in the eye and said, "This isn't going to take all day, is it?"

The 9th Green

A husband and wife are on the 9th green when suddenly she collapses from a heart attack! "Help me dear," she groans to her husband.

The husband calls 911 on his cell phone, talks for a few minutes, picks up his putter and lines up his putt. His wife raises her head off the green and stares at him. "I'm dying here and you're putting?"

"Don't worry dear," says the husband calmly, "they found a doctor on the second hole and he's coming to help you.

"Well, how long will it take for him to get here?" she asks feebly. "No time at all," says her husband.

"Everybody's already agreed to let him play through."

The Tree

A golfer teed up his ball on the first tee, took a mighty swing and hit his ball into a clump of trees.

He found his ball and saw an opening between two trees he thought he could hit through.

Taking out his 3-wood, he took a mighty swing. The ball hit a tree, bounced back, hit him in the forehead and killed him.

As he approached the gates of Heaven, St. Peter asked, "Are you a good golfer?"

The man replied: "Got here in two, didn't I?"

Golf Tees

Golf tees on my dresser
Golf tees in my bed
Golf tees on my pillows
Where they poke my head

Golf tees in my closet
Falling from my shirts and pants
Golf tees along the baseboards
Just like army ants

Golf tees in the attic
Golf tees in the shed
Golf tees, golf tees everywhere
I wonder where they bred?

Golf tees on the floor
And underneath my feet
Golf tees lined up on the mantle
Oh, they look so neat

Golf tees in my couch
And in my back and thighs
When I sit and watch TV
I feel those little guys

Golf tees out the backdoor
Like Hansel-and-Gretels trails
Golf tees in the flowerbeds
Among the mulch and snails

Golf tees in my car
And underneath the mats
Golf tees in the backseat
Like little baseball bats

But when I am at the golf course
I ask my partner, like a louse
May I borrow some of your tees?
I left mine at the house!

Bloody 5-Iron

Police are called to an apartment and find a woman holding a bloody 5-iron standing over a lifeless man.

The detective asks, "Ma'am, is that your husband?"

"Yes" says the woman.

"Did you hit him with that golf club?"

"Yes, yes, I did.." The woman begins to sob, drops the club, and puts her, hands on her face.

"How many times did you hit him?"

"I don't know, five, six, maybe seven times.....just put me down for a five."

Longtime Girlfriend

Jim decided to tie the knot with his longtime girlfriend.

One evening, after the honeymoon, he was cleaning his golf shoes.

His wife was standing there watching him.

After a long period of silence she finally speaks.

"Honey, I've been thinking, now that we are married I think it's time you quit golfing. Maybe you should sell your golf clubs."

Jim gets this horrified look on his face.

She says, "Darling, what's wrong?"

”There for a minute you were sounding like my ex-wife.”

"Ex-wife!" she screams, "I didn't know you were married before!"

Jim replies, ”I wasn't."

Oh Phil!

A gushy reporter told Phil Mickelson, "You are spectacular, your name is synonymous with the game of golf. You really know your way around the course. What's your secret?"

Mickelson replied, "The holes are numbered."

BEER BY SEVEN YEAR OLDS

A handful of 7 year old children were asked 'What they thought of beer'. Some interesting responses, but the last one is especially touching.

'I think beer must be good. My dad says the more beer he drinks the prettier my mom gets.'
--Tim, 7 years old

'Beer makes my dad sleepy and we get to watch what we want on television when he is asleep, so beer is nice. '
--Mellanie, 7 years old

'My Mom and Dad both like beer. My Mom gets funny when she drinks it and takes her top off at parties, but Dad doesn't think this is very funny.'
--Grady, 7 years old

'My Mom and Dad talk funny when they drink beer and the more they drink the more they give kisses to each other, which is a good thing.'
--Toby, 7 years old

'My Dad gets funny on beer. He is funny. He also wets his pants sometimes, so he shouldn't have too much.'
--Sarah, 7 years old

'My Dad loves beer. The more he drinks, the better he dances. One time he danced right into the pool.'
--Lilly, 7 years old

'I don't like beer very much. Every time Dad drinks it, he burns the sausages on the barbecue and they taste disgusting.'
--Ethan, 7 years old

'I give Dad's beer to the dog and he goes to sleep.'
--Shirley, 7 years old

'My Mom drinks beer and she says silly things and picks on my father. Whenever she drinks beer she yells at Dad and tells him to go bury his bone down the street again, but that doesn't make any sense.'
--Jack, 7 years