The word ‘crazy’ invites resistance, with its glib attitude to mental health, yet there are instances where we have collectively decided ‘that’s fine’. These are: discounts, paving and golf. Why is the latter the only sport we have crazy-fied? There’s no crazy basketball, or bowls. What does crazy even mean? It means windmills mostly, perhaps an oblique nod to Don Juan. It means dragon’s mouths and mouseholes, maybe a loop-the-loop. It’s silly, but people take it serious. Crazy-golf championship players keep their balls in socks in their pockets, to regulate their temperature and ensure even rolling. Insert your own joke here, whilst noting that these determined souls are the ones who are crazy.
Golf is a very skilful, expensive, boring game that eats up acres of countryside. Crazy golf fits inside a shipping container and makes everyone look like an idiot. The only players who lose dignity are the ones who get angry at the conditions, or unfairness. Yes, the clubs are terrible, gradients inconsistent, there’s bubblegum on the ball. How you deal with absurdity says everything. If you step to the thin emerald felt to impose your will, you’ve already lost. If you cheerfully accept being fortune’s fool, no calamity can touch you. That’s a win.
Crazy golf sorts the self-serious from the toxically competitive, and teaches us stoicism in the most charming way. This makes it an amazing first date and perfect for kids. What else can we say that about? Pizza Express? Soft play? So next time you find yourself on a pier or team-building day, head straight for the crazy paving that leads to this mirror world of mini-golf. It’s the deal of the century.
Photograph by Shaw + Shaw
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