I remember some years ago, when I did a GolfPunk magazine, I pulled a friend, Robin Bernardus, to be the managing editor. This project was a bit hilarious for me and Robin, since both of us know almost nothing about golf. Not to mention play the game for real.
Well, Robin might have more experiences than me, since he played golf on his Play Station.
So one day, a week before our magazine’s event, Robin decided to take a golf stick and headed to Matoa, the closest golf range from his home. And he played awfully, for sure. But that pushed him to take private sessions at the golf rage to play regularly.
He told me, he became so obsessed with golf, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The pictures of the body, hands, feet movements he’d performed when he should hit the ball: kept on rolling in his mind. Unstoppable. Even when hes’ taling, laying down, driving… that practicing golf was keep going on and on.
At that time, I found it’s a bit too much. Ridiculous. I even laughed at him. Really, he could imagine that?
Well that was then.
Today, with this cello thing, I totally get it. I absolutely understand what Robin went through with golf.
My fingers, unconsciously tapping as if I play the C, D scales or that awesome Twinkle, Twinkle Little Stars.
And if I can’t tap my fingers on anything, I imagine play them all.
Hey Robin, I know now. Really do.
For others, maybe.For me: just love it.