After several practice swings, he carefully positioned himself over the ball and whoosh, whack. An instant later there was a hollow thunk as it sent bark flying from a pine. He had to dive for cover from the white-dimpled bullet that seemed to have his name on it. It was amazing. I'd never thought of the game as being dangerous.
Dance is also a part of the game the networks omit.
Typically what I'm seeing resembles a tribal ritual that National Geographic would film. The choreography includes hitting the ball, hopping around in circles, swinging a club overhead and spewing forth language that would cause my old Navy chief to blush in what I've dubbed the ring of profanity. This apparently has some power to change the direction or behavior of the ball in mid-flight. I thought my TV viewing had prepared me for golf fashion, which is probably an oxymoron. Slacks that look like something my wife called in an exorcist to rid from my closet when we married have found new life on the links.