It’s been a long week, already, so I’m going to unwind by dumping some Bobo on y’all without adding any commentary of my own:
I would say the typical golfer at my local course, the Falls Road Golf Course in Potomac, Md., is a 37-year-old Indian-American guy with a mid-range S.U.V. who works in I.T. at an office park and buys into the dream of white-collar America. He’ll be in a foursome with some of his buddies, then there will be a foursome of high school boys, then there will be two older couples playing together, then four women who play together once a week and finally there will be my wife and me in a pair waiting 20 minutes to tee off while those in front of us bounce shots from one side of the fairway to another.
In my experience, in short, golf is a big thick slice of middle-class America.
I don’t know why this amuses me but it does.
Update. I may as well inflict this upon you as well. In for a penny…
Several years ago, I arrived in Madison, Wis., for a conference. It was Saturday morning, and as my taxi got close to campus, I noticed people dressed in red walking in the same direction. At first it was a trickle, then thousands. It looked like the gathering of a happy Midwestern cult, though, of course, it was the procession to a football game.