A Stroke of Genius

Let me describe a typical day of golf. I step up to the practice range so I can get all of the good shots out of my system. I really want to immerse myself in nature and explore every acre of the course. Then I'm ready to tee it up.  My driver usually goes about 30 feet. Then i have to go pick it up and try again. I can hit the ball 200 to 250. Yards? No, feet. On my next shot, I have to either play over the tree or chip to the fairway. I decide to go over the tree. That doesn't work. I take a mulligan. I chip to the fairway. I bring out the fairway wood. I can usually hit the ball 150 to 200 with this club. Feet?  No, inches because I hit the ground behind the ball. Then I play it safe and iron it to the edge of the green. Here I proceed to chip over the green and then onto the green. Putting usually takes about 2 or 3 shots. When I'm all done eighteen holes, I'm tired and and frustrated. But, for some crazy reason, I want to come back and play again. Golf is the only sport I know that both relieves and creates stress. I always feel relaxed on the course but stressed that I am a not doing well. It's a love/hate relationship. I love it; it hates me.