Ever wonder how to retrieve a sunken golf car from a snake-infested lake? Or which club in your bag is best suited for combat against a horde of rats? If these and other sporting questions are gnawing at you, The Downhill Lie, Carl Hiaasen's hilarious confessional about returning to the fairways after a thirty-two-year absence, is definitely the book for you.
Originally drawn to the game by his father, Carl wisely quit golfing in 1973, when "Richard Nixon was hunkered down like a meth-crazed badger in the White House, Hank Aaron was one dinger shy of Babe Ruth's all-time home run record, and The Who had just released Quadrophenia." But some ambitions refuse to die, and as the years -- and memories of shanked 7-irons -- faded, it dawned on Carl that there might be one thing in life he could do better in middle age than he could as a youth. So gradually he ventured back to the dreaded driving range, this time as the father of a five-year-old son -- and also as a grandfather.
"What possesses a man to return in midlife to a game at which he'd never excelled in his prime, and which in fact had dealt him mostly failure, angst and exasperation? Here's why I did it: I'm one sick bastard."
And thus we have Carl's foray into a world of baffling titanium technology, high-priced golf gurus, bizarre infomercial gimmicks and the mind-bending phenomenon of Tiger Woods; a maddening universe of hooks and slices where Carl ultimately -- and foolishly -- agrees to compete in a country-club tournament against players who can actually hit the ball. "That's the secret of the sport's infernal seduction," he writes. "It surrenders just enough shots to let you talk yourself out of quitting."
Hiaasen's chronicle of his shaky return to this bedeviling pastime and the ensuing demolition of his self-esteem -- culminating with the savage 45-hole tournament -- will have you rolling with laughter. Yet the bittersweet memories of playing with his own father and the glow he feels when watching his own young son belt the ball down the fairway will also touch your heart. Forget Tiger, Phil and Ernie. If you want to understand the true lure of golf, turn to Carl Hiaasen, who has written an extraordinary book for the ordinary hacker.
Carl Hiaasen was introduced to the game of golf by his father, who, to Carl's nearly life-long disappointment, was a very good golfer. On a whim that could be argued to be both mature and immature, he gave up the game in his early twenties because he wasn't able to improve. The Downhill Lie is the window through which we see his return to the game.
Hiaasen goes to many extremes to improve his game. He reads every piece of literature on the game and buys some hilarious info-mercial products that make lofty promises. He joins a golf course, buys new clubs (and more new clubs), takes lessons, re-engineers his swing, and ultimately enters a tournament.
For many reasons, which include his disposable income; his available free time; and that this became an assignment from his publisher, Hiaasen is able to go to greater lengths than most golfers who want to get better. But that doesn't mean those golfers, a category into which I fit, haven't thought about trying any or all of the things he did in the book. That contributes to the hilarious, but humbling nature of the book. We can laugh at his exploits as he does, and maybe we can learn some of the lessons he does as well.
This book is more than a diary of Carl Hiaasen's golf rounds. The Downhill Lie is a poignant commentary on why so many of us endure the constant frustrations associated with the game of golf. The author uses the comedy of his situation to show exactly why, when this game keeps knocking us down, we get right back up and make another tee time.
I recommend this book if you struggle with golf, or know someone who does (which I think is just about everyone, right?). This book will probably not help you be a better golfer, but at least you'll see you're not alone. If you aren't into the game yourself, and you've wondered why we torture ourselves the way we do, The Downhill Lie offers great insight. It was both funny and right-on-target portraying the mind of a golfer...or most golfers anyway. I really liked this book.
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