Tastes like Chicken

I have been spending a lot of time on the golf course as of late. A lot of time. I wish I would have gotten into golf more as a little kid. If I would have been encouraged to work on my putting like I was to practice the piano, maybe I wouldn’t be as bad right now. But then again, a large part of the enjoyment I find in golf is improvement, the struggle and the psychology of the game.

My friends have created a wonderful tradition that I have been invited into recently, and I started at the bottom of the pecking order.

Every time the guys from Brick Oven, Parker, Trevor, Kyle and Ron play they keep score meticulously and write it down in a book to keep track of wins, and more importantly for this entry, losses. Later this summer we’re trying to put together a big trip down to St. George to just play golf all weekend long. Ron’s getting married in August and, not that married people aren’t invited, they just don’t have the money to do fun things. So I’m replacing Ron as Divorced Guy No. 2, playing second fiddle to Parker.

The winner is awarded “The Medallion.” Kyle is the owner of “The Medallion” right now. Until he plays, and someone beats him, it will stay attached to his bag. Winning “The Medallion of Victory” will also go into the scorebook to document the victory, which obviously will ensure an immortality of fame. Aside from that, the victor will be entitled to talk smack for the next long while. The direction of the trash talk may be focused at any player, but special concentration is typically centered on the loser, who gets the opposite of glory, which of course it unglory.

The loser is awarded “The Rubber Chicken.” The Rubber Chicken is also attached to the loser’s golf bag and cannot be removed for ANY reason until he plays and doesn’t lose. In addition to the shame of playing with a rubber chicken on his bag, and being forced to answer questions when playing with other people, the keeper of the chicken is the target of absolute scrutiny, and unbridled trash talk. Winning the Medallion I would have to assume, never winning the Medallion myself must feel like NOT coming in last and becoming the new, or continued chicken keeper.

Despite the considerable amount of money I have put into my golf bag this summer, and despite the drastic improvement of my game since last year, I played the worst game of the season and just missed a putt that would have prevented the “Rubber Chicken of Shame” from being attached to my golf bag, and so here it is in all of its shameful glory, “The Rubber Chicken of Shame.”



I spent an three hours after work today working on my short game… I am very motivated to get rid of this chicken before I go to Alaska on Sunday. Two guys asked me, “What’s with the chicken?” and when I answered they thought our tradition was funny. I failed to see the humor. I will not sleep well knowing I got whooped last time the rubber chicken was on the line. As the incumbent chicken keeper, I am working hard to rid myself of this humiliating embarrassment.