I am an unabashed sports fan. Pros, college, even high school. I follow them all. It started when I was a kid, listening to Marty Glickman doing Giants games, and Marv Albert doing Knicks and Rangers play-by-play. “Kick save and a beauty by Giacomin!” DeBusschere from the corner… .YES! (DeBusschere’s grandson is an up-and-comer at Chaminade High School here on Long Island.) There have been colorful characters like Looie Carnesecca at St. John’s and Butch van Breda Kolff coaching Hofstra basketball. And of course, the players themselves. From Namath and Clyde to The Mick and Rod Gilbert, I was hooked on the personalities as much as the games.

So, my friends are taken aback when they ask me things like, “Hey did you catch The Masters? Koepka really blew it,” and I say, “No, I don’t watch golf.”

I love to play golf, but watching it as a sport on television ranks just below curling, which is only on once every four years! Golf ranks below cornhole.. and now even pickleball, which is the hottest sport in our age group! (“Hey, did you see where McEnroe and Agassi played pickleball for charity?” I did not.) Golf, in my mind, should be relegated to ESPN 8 (“The Ocho”), where it can follow spirited dodgeball action!

Anyway, I was able to take advantage of a recent summerlike day and got in a round of golf with a guy I’ve run outings with and a couple other guys I didn’t know. Three of us had something in common, and the other one was a kid. You do the math.

Among the topics of conversation were: “I’m glad to be playing. I recently had a cyst removed from an area between my navel and [lower area.. my edit].”

Wait.. hold on.. didn’t we JUST MEET?? This does NOT even come CLOSE to passing for light golf banter among strangers, with whom I’ll spend 2 1/2 hours and NEVER SEE AGAIN!

A couple of holes later, I was squatting to line up a putt (yeah, like THAT ever works! I meant the lining up of the shot, but it could also apply to the squatting). After a bit of looking like I was actually doing something beyond merely squatting, I stood up, walked to the left for a better angle, and squatted again behind my ball. “Now you’re just showing off,” the other not-a-kid said. “I’d do that, but my girlfriend tells me to ‘save your get-ups.'” He went on to explain, though he didn’t have to, that there’s a limit to the number of times he can lower himself and then get up. I’m assuming he meant getting up without assistance.

A few more holes..,”I can’t wait to get home so I can take 10 Advil!”

“No,” said the other, “the trick is to take them before you play!”

“I did,” said the first guy. “This is just how I move.”

I imagined the kid thinking all kinds of things about getting old, but it’s more likely he was thinking he’d go on ahead of us, since the “pace of play” rule clearly wasn’t being enforced.