Diary of a mad mini-golfer: while on a family outing, this author takes a swing at mini-golf and finds the true charm of the sport

Parks & Recreation, Nov, 2004 by Ted Eleftheriou

With a flipchart, pictures of the course, and a copy of Jack Nicklaus's Golf My Way, we review tomorrow's strategy one last time. Tomorrow we play the Anderson family. Beaten by them in bowling, basketball and Jai Lai, I felt confident our family could win the coveted title, "Grand Masters of Mini-Golf."

"All right, does anyone have any questions?"

Madison Rose, my 3-year-old daughter, raises her hand, "Daddy?"

"Yes Madison Rose?"

"I'm a princess."

Sigh. "Yes you are Madison Rose ... any other questions?"

It's Grayson's turn. At 6 years old he loves anything fast (NASCAR, Formula 1 Racing, tornados), "Hey dad, you think Jeff Gordon ever played mini-golf?"

I stare at him for a moment.

"Yes Grayson, he's probably played mini-golf. Now about our game plan ..."

"How fast do you think he plays? I bet he's real fast, huh?" Grayson's talking restrictor plates, Madison Rose is squeezing a tiara on a stuffed Shamu, and my wife Lisa wants to know if there will be any malls nearby. I think we're ready.

I get up early, eat a light breakfast and putt a few balls around the house. Swapping my Tiger Woods pajamas for a pair of neatly pressed pants, golf shirt and spikeless golf shoes, I sneak a peak in the mirror. Yes, I'm looking like a pro.

While taking my lucky putter and a dozen golf balls to the car, I notice my family walking out the front door. What the ...? They're wearing T-shirts, baggy shorts and flip-flops. "Hey! You guys can't go golfing dressed like that!" I make them go back inside and change into collared shirts, long pants and shoes.

Grayson asks Lisa why they have to dress for church on Wednesday. Lisa whispers, "I don't know, but since we do, we might as well pray that your Father doesn't embarrass us like he did bowling."

Running late, I park the car in time "Loading Zone." We spot time Andersons--dressed in T-shirts, baggy shorts and flip-flops. My family gives me time, "What a dork" look. Ignoring them I go pay the cashier.

She says, "Sorry, no personal putters or golf halls allowed."

"What?" Getting hotter than a bowl of chicken jambalaya I shout, "I spent over $200 buying this putter and balls for today!"

"With a look that says, "What a dork," (I get that a lot) she hands me a red putter and a ball shaped like a Cadbury Egg. With the Andersons and my family looking on, I decide I should set a good example. Reluctantly I give her my putter and golf balls to hold.

Why Mini-Golf?

In 2003, a total of 502.4 million rounds of mini-golf were played at roughly 5,000 courses in the United States. That same year, a total of 494.9 million rounds of golf were played at regulation golf facilities.

With the golf industry experiencing a decline in rounds, mini-golf may be the solution. People today work more hours, have less money to spend, have greater family obligations, and are intimidated by larger courses. Addressing these challenges, a typical round of mini-golf can be played in about 45 minutes, costs only $5 and can be enjoyed by family members of all ages. Regarding fear and intimidation, trying to send a ball 200 feet is much easier than knocking one 200 yards.

While windmills, castles, lighthouses and clown beads surrounded by Lilliputian greens still adorn many mini-golf facilities, the current trend of course layouts resemble mini-replicas of golf holes found around the world. Complete with sand bunkers, water hazards and elaborate landscapes, mini-golf course designs today resemble their ancestors of the early 1900s when mini-golf was considered a shorter version of regulation golf. In addition, many present-day mini-golf courses are certified by the American Disability Association, making golf accessible to all people.

Game Time

A coin toss gives the Andersons honors. Letting their kids Nicholas and Noah putt first, they barely make contact. Just as I'm about to say, "Madison Rose can putt better than that left-handed!" our kids jump in and putt. Grayson shouts, "C'mon Nicholas, I'll race you!" Looking more like hockey players in the final Stanley Cup game, they smack their balls all over the place. Somehow without injury they manage to get their balls in the hole. "Dad, I got a 246! Nicholas got a 174! I'm faster, huh?" Before I can answer, Grayson's off again. Jeff Gordon would be proud.

Christine and Lisa putt, followed by Chris who rolls his ball to about four inches from the hole. Show-off. I line up my putt and send my ball rolling. Tracking toward the hole I'm thinking, this could go in! But inches from the hole, this little girl, no, little thief comes out of nowhere, snatches my ball and runs off with it. "Hey! That's my ball!" I yell. Hopping the fence, tip-toeing through the take lava pit, and slashing through the plastic rain forest, I run after her. She drops my ball in the water and runs off giggling. I scoop my ball out and sludge my way back to the first hole. No one's there. My group has gone on without me.

Catching up with them, I place my ball down, line up my putt and notice it was getting dark. That's odd, I thought, darkness at 10 a.m.? I turn around and see the sun eclipsed from this very big man! He was wearing a Bob Marley T-shirt and a hat that said "War Pig" on the front. Gulp.