The Downhill Lie: A Hacker's Return to a Ruinous Sport

Thirty-two years after giving up the game of golf, Carl Hiaasen finds himself playing golf during his free time from writing an article for Sports Illustrated's swimsuit issue. He plays well enough that when he returns home to Florida, he buys a set of second hand clubs. Thus begins a hilarious odyssey over 577 days. The Downhill Lie: A Hacker's Return to a Ruinous Sport, by Carl Hiaasen is an excellent book, whether you are familiar with Hiaasen's fiction or the game of golf. In any event, you will probably enjoy this book.

I was disappointed by Hiaasen's last piece of fiction, Nature Girl. With this book, he redeems himself. He is self-effacing, neurotic, and willing to try anything that the Golf Channel or a golf magazine will pitch. That latter point brings some of the funniest parts of the book, as he tries relaxation pills, necklaces, and items to help your swing. Time and time again, he is told to stop reading golf magazines, only to fall for the lure of quick solutions to his never-ending problems within the pages of said magazines. Much like the rest of us. Hiaasen writes about his experiences with the World Golf Village and the Leadbetter Golf Academy. Both of those destinations are high on the list of training facilities for hackers and Hiaasen gets a lesson from each. The commentary is pure Hiaasen.

This book restored my faith in Carl Hiaasen. On the surface, this book is about one man's return to golf. But throughout, you are presented with Hiaasen's trademark prose concerning Florida; the environment, rampant development, and politicians. There is also his need to reconnect with deceased father (an avid golfer). And as his golfing days march onward, his family starts to golf, which adds another layer of complexity to Carl's relationship with them, golf, and the reader. More than just a book on golf, this is Hiaasen at the top of his game. Even though his golf scores don't show it.

If you are an average golfer avoid this book like the plague. It is bad mojo, terrible karma, and a jinx. Hiaasen's efforts to take his game to the next level are hilarious and his usual observations on Florida politics and the environment just add to the fun. There is so much in the book that the hacker can relate to that it begins to work on your mind. After finishing the book I went out and shot eight strokes above my already feeble average following each occasional par with a triple bogey and adding new levels of frustration to my putrid game. I give Hiaasen credit for making me laugh, then ruining my day. It's the only golf instruction book or article that has ever affected my score.

In our own minds, playing the game of golf becomes the kind of titanic tussle that we have so often observed as Tiger, Phil, and Vijay fight it out on some tough course while we watch on television. In fact, when you play the Old Course at St. Andrews, you can hire a video crew to follow you around on the last few holes and provide commentary.

But the reality is far different. Most of us hit many more bad shots than good ones. The appeal of the game quickly becomes beating others in Nassau's abetted by our large handicaps. I came to think of golf's enduring appeal as being in part the opportunity for middle aged people to have their own Little League.

Usually, a club will put you together with those of similar ineptitude and you soon forget how bad you are. Being a hacker myself, I was once absolutely floored to watch Chi Chi Rodriguez (all 147 pounds of him) easily lofting shots onto a green 230 yards away from a deep bunker while shooting an advertisement on my home course. Now, I had never gotten onto that green in less than two shots from there (and not often in only two).

Years later, I had a chance to meet Chi Chi, and I told him how humbling it had been to watch him. He stared at me for one count and then said, "Now you know how I felt the first time I saw Tiger hit the ball."

Having played the game diligently (and poorly) for most of my adult life, I was curious about what it would be like to return to the game as Carl Hiaasen did in his 50's in order to write a book. I was immediately struck that all of the silliness that I had observed in myself and others was reflected in the book.

I've always found that observing the frustrations that others experience with golf to be hilarious (but I'm usually able to keep a straight face). Hiaasen makes the same observations about himself that I've often made about others. I admire his ability to see himself as others see him.

The trick with golf is to have a carefree attitude: You have more fun and you play better. Hiaasen has more trouble with achieving that emotional distance from his game while playing than he does getting out of a bunker. That overly self-critical attitude adds sourness to the book that would otherwise be totally hilarious.

You'll read very funny tales about new uses for clubs you've never considered, weird gadgets that don't work, unexpected things that can go wrong, and superstitious looks for omens. I think this book would have worked better as a series of essays about the silliness of golf obsessions and practices rather than recounting so much about his return to the game. The sections involving David Feherty were a complete stitch, and you could do a whole book about him . . . filled with wisecracks.

For those who are dyed-in-the-wool Carl Hiaasen fans, you'll be fascinated by his comments about the environmental implications of building golf courses and his reactions to the wild life he encounters.

The book ends on a positive note as his wife and son take up the game, and he recalls great moments spent with his father many years earlier.

There are a lot better golf books out there, but none that capture the experiences of the average frustrated golfer any better. It's like reading an autobiography in some ways (in fact, there's a story in here about hitting a fairway shot from a perfect lie that went 3 yards backwards . . . been there, done that).

Take dead aim!

This memoir and Franz Lidz's even wittier Fairway to Hell: Around the World in 18 Holes are the two funniest golf books I have ever read (and I have read just about every book written on golf). Curiously, Downhill Lie and Fairway were published almost simultaneously. Hiaasen does more than keep a diary about his midlife return to the game. It's a cleverly written and sometimes wistful look at golf, marriage, human nature and life. During his preparation (more than 500 days) for a country club tournament, Hiassen sinks a golf cart into a lake. He uses his golf clubs as a weapon against aggressive rats and takes "focus inducing" Mind Drive capsules. He sees an alligator sunning himself near a fairway as a good omen, but has a less-than-cosmic experience with a Q-Link, a pendant "that was said to hold marvelous powers." He brags about in his good scores, frets about the upcoming member-guest tournament at a Vero Beach, Fla., course, and amuses his golf instructors during lessons. He remembers his time playing golf with his father, and revels in his son's interest -- and talent -- in golf. But more often than not, Hiaasen turns his wit on himself, endearing himself to hackers young and old. If you enjoy Downhill Lie, you'll positively love Fairway To Hell. I highly recommend both.

Golfers and nongolgers alike can't help but be charmed by Carl Hiaasen's apologia on his return to the game after 32 years. I don't play myself, but am a great fan of Hiaasen, and found this book hilarious and charming. It's ok to step out of the comfort zone -- this reminded me of Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch, and I knew even less about soccer, er, football.