I go through the same routine every spring.
I watch the weather get nicer. I listen to my friends talk about their new clubs or their first round of the season. I watch The Masters.
And I tell myself, every single year, that this is the year I seriously take up golf.
I don't know how many years I've done the dance but I can tell you that I still don't own a set of clubs, I still haven't stepped foot into a tee box and I doubt this will be the year it changes.
I played (and I use the term incredibly loosely) years ago but gave up for a number of reasons, mainly a lack of time and my lackluster play, which led more to frustration than relaxation.
Last year, I upped the ante a little bit, telling myself that if I don't take up golf, I'll take up fishing -- another of my favorite pastimes which has long since slipped away from me.
Go figure, that didn't happen either, though I did buy the fishing license, which I guess is a step in the right direction.
Looking at the calendar, which is full of ballgames, work assignments, too many weddings and other obligations, I opted not to make the empty promise to myself this year. I don't see myself on the course or sitting on the edge of a lake anytime soon. But watching those few final holes from Augusta ... I can't help but think a day on the links might be delightful.
Oh well. Maybe next year.