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Top Ten Golf Books Titles

Jonathan Livingston Eagle
Goodbye Mr. Grips
Brave New Wood
The President's Swing Plane is Missing
The Old Man and the Tee
Hook Homeward Angel
Lord of the Pings
The Hunched Backswing of Notre Dame
The Thornbirdies
Glove Story

Brand new golf balls are water-magnetic. Though this cannot be proven in the lab, it is a known fact that the more expensive the golf ball, the greater its attraction to water.

Demaret

Jimmy Demaret was as famous for his wit as his golf talent. He once quipped of Bob Hope: "He has a wonderful short game...unfortunately it is off the tee"

And his remark to Johnny Carson on his golf swing: "If I were you, I'd lay off for a couple of week...and then quit"

The players themselves can be classified into two groups... the attractions and the entry fees

Golf is based on honesty.
Where else would you admit to a 7 on a par 3.

"Dear," asked the wife. "What would you do if I died?"

"Why, dear, I would be extremely upset," answered the husband. "Why do you ask such a horrid question?"

"Would you remarry?" persevered the wife.

"No, of course not, love," replied the husband.

"Do you like being married?" asked the wife.

"Of course I do, lamb." he said.

"Then why wouldn't you remarry?"

"All right," said the husband on taking a different tact trying to end the conversation, "I'd remarry, then."

"You would?" responded the wife, looking quite pained.

"Yes," replied the trapped husband.

"Would you sleep with her in OUR bed?" asked the wife after a very long pause.

"Well, yes, I suppose I would." replied her tiring mate.

"I see," said the wife quite sternly and indignantly. "And would you let her wear my old clothes?"

"I suppose, if she wanted to," stammered her mate, adding, "it would be a compliment to your exquisite taste."

"Really," replied the wife icily. "And would you take down the pictures of me and replace them with pictures of her?"

"I don't know. But wouldn't that be the correct thing to do?," he replied.

"Is that so?" said the wife, leaping to her feet. "And I suppose you'd let her play with my golf clubs, too."

"Of course not, dear. That would be impossible. She's left-handed."

Father O'Malley was playing golf with a parishioner.

On the first hole, he sliced into the rough. His opponent heard him mutter "Hoover!" under his breath.

On the second hole, the ball went straight into a water hazard. "Hoover!" again, a little louder this time.
On the third hole, a miracle occurred and Father O'Malley's drive landed on the green only six inches from the hole! "Praise be to God!"

He carefully lined up the putt, but the ball curved around the hole instead of going in. "HOOVER!!!!"

By this time, his opponent couldn't withhold his curiosity any longer, and asked why the priest said "Hoover."

The Father replied "It's the biggest dam I know."

Then there was the caddie with a similarly embarrassing vocabulary and reputation. He'd been assigned to caddie for the local Anglican bishop and warned by the caddiemaster to say nothing unless spoken to. Things went well for a couple of holes. Then on the third the bishop's stroke was not quite clean.

"Where the hell did that go, caddie?" asked the churchman looking to replace a divot he'd shifted.

"Into the f****** bunker," retorted the caddie who'd watched the ball, "and don't forget you started it."

Top Ten Signs Your Driver Head is Too Big



You tee it up right next to the left block and still nick the right one.
You get mad and slam the ground with it, then fall into the hole it made.
Compared to a silhouette of your head, it’s the one without the nose.
It casts enough shade for a family of four to have a picnic.
Just to get to the course you have to tie it on your ski rack.
It’s the same exact size as Paula Jones’ old nose.
Tired? Waiting for the group ahead? It makes a dandy chair.
You have to ship it to the factory for repairs in a coffin.
Your head cover is an airport windsock.
It’s name? Great Big Brando.

Fred was moderately successful golfer, but as he got older he was increasingly hampered by incredible headaches. His golf, personal hygiene and love life started to suffer, he managed to push on, but when his game turned really sour he sought medical help. After being referred from one specialist to another, he finally came across a doctor who solved the problem.

"The good news is I can cure your headaches, the bad news is that it will require castration. You have a very rare condition which causes your testicles to press up against the base of your spine. The pressure creates one hell of a headache. The only way to relieve the pressure and allow your swing to work again is to remove the testicles."

Fred was shocked and depressed. He wondered if he has anything to live for, but then figured at least he could play reasonable golf again. He decided he had no choice but to go under the knife. When he left the hospital, his mind was clear, but he felt like he was missing an important part of himself. As he walked down the street, he realised that he felt like a different person. He could make a new beginning, swing free, and live a new life. He went to the club for a drink and as he walked past the Pro shop thought, "That's what I need: a new outfit."

He entered the shop and told the salesman, "I'd like some new golf slacks." The salesman eyed him briefly and said, "Let's see . . .size 44 long." Fred laughed, "That's right, how did you know?" "It's my job." Fred tried on the slacks, they fitted perfectly. As Fred admired himself in the mirror, the salesman asked, "How about a new shirt, I've got some great new Nicklaus stock."

Fred thought for a moment and then said, "Sure . ." . The salesman eyed Fred and said,"Let's see. . .34 sleeve and . . . 16 and and half neck" Fred was surprised, "That's right, how did you know?" "It's my job." Fred tried on the shirt, and it fitted perfectly. As Fred adjusted the collar in the mirror, the salesman asked, "How about new shoes, we just got new stock with soft spikes" Fred was on a roll and agreed. The salesman said, "Let's see. . .9 and a half. . . wide."

Fred was astonished, "That's right, how did you know?" "It's my job." Fred tried on the shoes and they fit perfectly. Fred walked comfortably around the shop and the salesman asked, "How about a new hat?" Without hesitating, Fred said, "Sure . . " The salesman eyed Fred's head and said, "Let's see. . .7 5/8." Fred was really impressed, "That's right, how did you know?" "It's my job."

The hat fit perfectly. Fred was feeling great, when the salesman asked, "How about some new underwear, got some great new imported stock." Fred thought for a second and said, "Sure . . "The salesman stepped back, eyed Fred's waist and said, "Let's see. . size 36." Fred laughed, "No, I've worn size 34 since I was 18 years old." The salesman shook his head, "You can't wear a size 34 - every time you swing it would press your testicles up against the base of your spine and give you one hell of a headache."

Most Advice


Barbara Nicklaus discovered that is not easy being the wife of The Golden Bear, during the Tour Wifes Championship.

At the end of the 9-hole event, her ears were ringing.
She didn't win anything but her overly helpful husband/caddy won the "Most Advice" award.

He told her 165 things in those nine holes.

He'd been playing for twenty years and he'd never managed it - the ultimate goal, a hole in one. As he was chipping away in a sandtrap one day and moving nothing but sand, he voiced the thought. "I'd give anything," he said, "anything to get a hole in one."

"Anything?" came a voice from behind and he turned to see a grinning, red-clad figure with neatly polished horns and sharpened tail.

"What did you have in mind?" the golfer enquired.

"Well would you give up half your sex life.'"

"Yes, Yes I would."

"It's a deal then," and the figure faded discreetly from sight.

On the very next hole he did it. The ball just soared from his club in a perfect arc right into the hole. And for good measure, every other hole he played that round he holed in one. As he was putting his clubs away the figure in red appeared once more.

"Now for our bargain," he said. "You remember you must give up half your sex life."

The golfer frowned. "That gives me a bit of a problem," he said.

"You're not backing out of this," cried the figure with a swish of its tail.

"We'd struck a bargain and you agreed to it."

"Yes, of course. But I do have a problem. Which half of my sex life do you want - the thinking or the dreaming?"