Somewhere in the middle of the 21,000 steps I took one month ago at Erin Hills, a sudden urge hit me, like it does once a year, every year, to completely quit this game.

Maybe you’re like me or we at least have a few things in common. A hyper-competitive middle handicap who doesn’t slow anyone down but is annoyed at how infrequently he breaks 80. As for when this urge strikes? It always builds from some concoction of cost, effort, inexplicable struggle and frustration, but it always gets me thinking about other recreational sports.

Tennis is so fun, and a better workout. Surfing has upfront costs of equipment and lessons, but after that the waves are free. The sailboats that circle outside Diversey Harbor and my Chicago apartment look even more peaceful than nine holes at sunset. Same

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