Christmas Balls and Other Golf Gifts You Shouldn’t Buy Anyone

A message to all non-golfers; in the spirit of Christmas, Hanukah and Kwanza please don’t buy me golf balls with pictures of Rocky and Bullwinkle. Technically, I suppose they are okay to hit; I just hate it when someone is helping me look for my ball and I have to admit, “Yes, it’s the one with the Rocky The Flying Squirrel.”

Also, don’t buy me that golf clock with the hour and minute hands made from the golfers arms. No one wants to look at a clock and see a cartoon golfer in some strange swing position at around ten after two in the afternoon. If I want to see a bad swing I’ll look in the mirror.


Please don’t buy me clever head covers with animal heads or cartoon creatures. I’m not Tiger Woods and I certainly don’t want anyone to think that I think I might be remotely good enough to use the same head cover. How good do you have to be to have a tiger head cover? I don’t know, but a lot better than me.

While we are at it, please don’t buy me one of those skin-tight Tiger Woods mock-turtle necks either. The next time I want to feel that bad about my body I’ll get a full-length mirror in the shower. I don’t know where you’re from, but in my foursome saggy man-breasts are not in style.

Never buy me one of those all-in-one golf tools. You know the kind that fix divots, mark your ball, clean your spikes and stamps your name on your balls all at the same time. Nothing in life should be required to perform so many tasks. I mark my ball with a coin, I clean my spikes with the wire brush on the bottom of the ball washer and I identify my ball with a felt-tip pin.

And please, please don’t buy me golf clothing such as knickers, argyle sweaters or socks, or hats with “I’d Rather Be Golfing” written across the front. Actually anything that says, “I’d Rather Be Golfing” on it anywhere is a no, no.

Never buy me anything that says, “As Seen On TV” on the package.

And never buy me golf lessons from a guy with the first name “Ace.” Stick with Butch and Hank. Randy Smith would be nice, too.

Whatever you do, don’t ever buy me a book on golf fitness, and God forbid a membership in a gym. If I were remotely interested in exercise I wouldn’t be playing golf. I understand that walking a golf course is a great way to get exercise, and that for the most part, the joy of walking the course has been lost in our busy life style. However, I get enough of the “joy of walking” fetching beer from the refrigerator.

Here are a few more things not to buy me: The WOW PUTTER with a compass, level, measuring tape, etc. For someone who has lost countless bets because of bad putting, this is not remotely funny.

Nudie tees are one more distraction I don’t need, and besides the tees have no head, which kind of freaks me out.

No one needs or wants a talking head cover for any reason, at any time. If someone gives you this gift they are trying to tell you that they are not your friend. If your wife gives this to you then you may want to consider surveillance.

Ceramic chip and dip plates (get it, chip and dip?) are not funny and worst of all they are not appetizing so why mess up two sports (golf and eating) with them.

Lastly, whatever you do, never buy me the POTTY PUTTER for any reason.

Happy Holidays.