Golf is a funny sport.
I mean, you've got this assortment of sticks
and this tiny little ball
whose goal is a small hole hundreds of yards away,
and in between the two are a few obstacles.
In fact, there's a whole treacherous landscape.
But I'm obsessed with the swing.
Mainly, the mental process involved with bringing it down.
Fear, doubt, confidence -
it all plays a part in it,
and a hope that you've swung well when it finally hits.
(Bear in mind, of course, that this all happens in less than a second,)
but the reward or disaster comes immediately after.
By that, I mean, during the upswing.
That's when the golfer sees the trajectory of the ball as a result of all of their prior feelings.
I've never even played golf, really.
I just like it as a simile.
By that, I mean,
how it applies metaphorically.
There's a lot of depth there,
especially with the upswing.
I may not be a golfer,
but I play darts and throw beans on occasion,
and the upswing holds the same kind of persuasion in all these games of accuracy.
You see, there's this feeling that comes soon after the release;
almost like a premonition.
As if knowing beforehand that the thing is or isn't going to land where we want it to.
And that's all I mean by the upswing -
that I've got a good feeling 'bout you.
Aim the shot, follow through.
