Tweet
Found this and thought it worth sharing 
If……..Kipling were a Golfer
By M Anderson
http://www.golfwrx.com/BagChatter/wp...ingcropped.jpgIf you can keep your head when all about you
Are throwing clubs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust your swing when all players doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait for the green to clear and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about their score, and not deal in lies about yours,
Or being hated for that flushed drive, even when your back is aching,
And yet don’t look too good in Lindberg, nor smirk at others’ baggy draws:
If you can dream of being Tiger–and not make fantasy golf your master,
If you can think GIR –and not make par your aim;
If you can meet with Birdie and Bogey
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to see the bunkers unraked
Twisted by knaves to make a sand trap for fools,
Or watch the clubs you gave your life to, broken,
And re-shaft and epoxy and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one bounce of a bump and run,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn swing after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Grip which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Arnie and Jack–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count strokes with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving yardage
With 300 yards of perfect distance swung,
Yours is the turf and everything that’s on it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Golfer, my son!
If……..Kipling were a Golfer
By M Anderson
http://www.golfwrx.com/BagChatter/wp...ingcropped.jpgIf you can keep your head when all about you
Are throwing clubs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust your swing when all players doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait for the green to clear and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about their score, and not deal in lies about yours,
Or being hated for that flushed drive, even when your back is aching,
And yet don’t look too good in Lindberg, nor smirk at others’ baggy draws:
If you can dream of being Tiger–and not make fantasy golf your master,
If you can think GIR –and not make par your aim;
If you can meet with Birdie and Bogey
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to see the bunkers unraked
Twisted by knaves to make a sand trap for fools,
Or watch the clubs you gave your life to, broken,
And re-shaft and epoxy and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one bounce of a bump and run,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn swing after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Grip which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Arnie and Jack–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count strokes with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving yardage
With 300 yards of perfect distance swung,
Yours is the turf and everything that’s on it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Golfer, my son!
Comment