Funny Golf Quotes Novels & Stories

"Ah, yes, Pebble Beach. A truly remarkable course. The wind was a devil that day, but I managed to tame it. Shot a 78, if you can believe it. Best round I've had in years." "Remarkable," Jasper repeated, leaning forward with apparent interest. "I must confess, my own golfing skills are… less refined. Though I do appreciate the strategy involved. The ability to anticipate the ball's trajectory, to adjust for the wind, the terrain… it’s quite similar to navigating the complexities of the business world, wouldn’t you agree?" Hemmings puffed out his chest, clearly enjoying the comparison. "Precisely, Davenport! Golf is a metaphor for life. You have to be strategic, patient, and always have a bac

Sloppy grounds, yet close. I once played golf for leisure with my older brother. I never found it fun, but he always said to do it for ‘the culture’. Now, as I stepped onto the tee, I hoped muscle memories would come to my aid. “Pod thirteen, step out for your distraction task,” the voice honed. There was that too. For a moment, I had forgotten that the smallest numbers get distracted. Well, the lady with Lucan strutted out casually. Hair in a ponytail and a strange kind of confidence that irked me in ways it shouldn’t.

Someone even gave him light shoulder pats as though he was an acquaintance. As he stood there, a woman brought his golf bag while people screamed and clapped for him. A lot of women made sexual remarks about how hot he was, and how it was such a shame that he was married. Some even asked him if his wife was one who liked to share. If only they knew he’d divorced her. "Now, is there anybody who would like to face Mr. Simon Beaumont in the game of golf this afternoon?" She asked. There was a deafening silence in the whole arena and everyone knew not to mess with him.

I asked him. The five-hole golf trial was something we used to play before the wall of business rose between us. We would set up five golf balls, each assigned to a hole, and make sure every ball found its mark. The winner would say whatever they wanted and the loser would be made to do something hilarious as a forfeit. He gave me a shy smile. His expression flickered before he composed himself again. I arched a brow at him, the memory of what we had done together still vivid.

His voice low, hinting at a deeper challenge. My eyes narrowed. “What did you have in mind?” The ball soared through the air, landing with precision on the green. His second shot was a masterful putt, sinking the ball into the hole with ease. The crowd gasped, their whispers echoing through the silence. “Two strokes under par… incredible!” “Unbeatable!” My eyes slightly widened, but my determination was unwavering. His sneer deepened as he turned to me. “Your turn.” His voice dripped with confidence, bordering on arrogance.

Gertrude said, pointing her purple-colored club at Lucy. "Hold this please," Lucy asked, handing her beer to Sara and picking up her green-colored club. She swung a hole-in-one. "That couldn't be legal," Sara responded with a serious tone. "How did you do that? This is one of the hardest holes on the course!" "Lucy's had too much practice playing mini-golf," Gertrude explained. They heard loud footsteps coming toward them up the pathway and a foreboding figure stepped from behind a rock wall.

Gavin exclaimed, genuinely impressed. “My papa. He taught me a few tricks when I was little,” I replied, a warm smile spreading across my face as I remembered those carefree days. As a kid, I loved watching Papa play golf with his friends. They always said it was a game for the wealthy. So, after my Papa's misfortune, he never got the chance to play again. “Pretty impressive! Would you like something to drink or eat?” He asked. “Thanks for asking, but if anything passes through my mouth right now, I’m pretty sure my belly would pop, and this dress wouldn't look so good on me anymore,” I joked, patting my stomach for emphasis.

When he’s so fucking pissed, he can’t even come up with another witty, dickish retort. It’s actually a fun little game I like to play—see how many digs it takes for him to shut down. Sometimes, I even try to beat my own record. Going for a low score, like in golf. Right now, I’d say I’m two under par. Arching a brow, I give the jackass a winning, plastic smile. “See you on the ice, Orlov.”

“So the idea in golf is that you want the ball to go in the hole, not in the wooded areas,” Boston said with a smirk that made me want to punch him in the nose. But I couldn’t do that to El. She’d have a fit if her groom had a black eye and swollen nose in the wedding pictures. “Well, crap.” I faked disappointment. “I better call it quits and meet you boys back at the clubhouse.”

God help me, I did. Date #2: Mini Golf Next, Ryder drove us to this mini golf course just outside town. I’ve never been a golf person, but I swear I laughed harder in that one hour than I had all semester. He kept cheating like blatantly cheating kicking my ball closer to the hole when he thought I wasn’t looking. And when I called him out, he said, “Babe, it’s strategy, not cheating.” “Babe?!” I nearly choked. “Since when are we babe?”