Why do I torture myself? I swore off golf about 3 years ago after it became apparent I was no good at it. Too much $$, WAY too much frustration, too little patience. Well, I'm doing it again, maybe just once. I'm taking my leftover birthday $$ to go to Pawleys Island with some guys and pay the big buck to play the sport I hate worse than synchronized swimming. Maybe I'll have the game of my life. Maybe I'll give John Daley a run for his donuts. Maybe I'll break a few clubs, or just MAYBE I'll have a great time hanging out with some incredible guys, to heck with the Golf.