Elvis + baseball = FORE!

"Remember your baseball swing."

"Bend your knees. No, a little more. Less."

"No, don't shake it like Elvis! Keep your leg straight."

"BASEBALL. Think baseball."

"ELVIS IS BACK IN THE BUILDING!"

The above are direct quotes from my husband this morning. No, we weren't learning a country line dance. No, we weren't on a baseball diamond.

He was attempting to teach me golf. LOL.

On a random whim a few weeks back, Hubby got me golf clubs. Pink ones, of course. And relatively cheap ones, but a good quality brand. He loves golfing, and I thought it sweet the wanted to share the fun with me. Most men consider the golf course their domain, but mine wants to enjoy it with me. Swoon.

Here it is, Labor Day, 10:00 a.m. I was ready to go! "Let's go to the shooting range, baby!"

Hubby sighs. "DRIVING range."

"Well that's silly, you don't DRIVE once you're there. You shoot balls."

"HIT balls."

"Whatever."

So we agreed, for the sake of the argument, to call it the "golfing range". Made more sense to me, and Hubby, I think, realized early on to pick his battles. He'd have plenty to choose from.

We get to the GOLFING RANGE and he goes over the basics with me. I'm all decked out in a pink baseball cap, blank tank top, jeans, and black and pink running shoes. I totally coordinate with my clubs, so I figure the hardest part is already behind me.

Hubby takes me through the various clubs. I can now recognize a driver and distinguish it from a six iron or a nine iron or a pitching wedge or a putter. Woohoo! Progress, folks. Progress.

Besides a few "helpful" comments from another male golfer, and plenty of teeth clenching from Hubby, we made good progress throughout the morning. I was timid, at first, afraid of smacking the club into the ground and hurting my arms or wrists. I got over that surprisingly quickly, after a few whole-hearted swings and misses in thin air. (much to the amusement of the men around me)

But I just couldn't get my swing correct. I'd bring the club UP and forward, instead of BACK and forward. Hubby would stand behind me and take me through it. "Go back, go foward. Go back, go forward." His chant sounded like the line from the teen movie "She's All That", when they are in the poetry reading house toward the beginning, and they all chant: "Be silent, be still." So of course I got the giggles, which doesn't help one's form. I could find the rhythm and swing correctly with Hubby right behind me, but as soon as he backed away, it'd be UP and forward all over again!

So many things to think about... head down, knees bent, center your body with the ball, eyes on ball, THINK ball, rotate, twist, keep toes on ground, lift heel off the ground as you twist, bring it through, follow through, then the other toe twists...just couldn't remember to go "back and forward."

Finally, Hubby came to me with a genius idea.

"How do you hold a baseball bat?"

I demostrated.

"Perfect. Now pretend your club is a bat, but incorporate the other things I showed you." I bent my knees, shook hands with the club, lined up my body, pulled up and back my arms like I was about to hit a grand slam, and... WHAAAPOW!!!! Beautiful drive. Actually went through the air and everything. I yelled "Woohooo!" and did a little shimmy dance, where I succeeded in thoroughly cracking up the three elderly men behind me. Oh well. Hubby was just so excited his coaching worked and I actually did something right.

Keeping my baseball stance, I began connecting with the ball on a regular basis. Could do it with my six iron and my driver. Oh yeah. Bring on the callouses, baby. Pour on the sweat. I am woman. I am golfer.

Wanna know the sad part? The whole time I was out there, having fun and impressing the socks off my Hubby, (who knew I was such a baseball genius on the golfing range?) I couldn't wait to get home to blog about it. I guess ultimately, I am woman. I am writer.