Funny Golf Quotes Novels & Stories

“And don’t strangle the club—golf’s not a hostage negotiation.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Right. Gentle. Got it.” From behind, I could hear Elizabeth’s unmistakable voice. “This is hilarious,” she drawled. “The irony of Christopher trying to teach someone golf is chef’s kiss. I mean, come on—he's barely a B-grade player on his best day.” Catherine let out a soft laugh beside her, sipping from a teacup. “Let the boy pretend, Elizabeth. It’s rare he gets to be the ‘expert’ at anything outside of business deals.”

They all faced down immediately none daring to say a word "Great you guys are fast learners"I smirk, I started leaving when suddenly "I miss you" I heard Nicklaus say, I halted on my steps but did not turn my back I raised my left middle finger giving him the "Fuck you" Sign before I left gorgeously

Though people did it, and so much worse all the time. “Ean,” I stated, drawing his attention before he swung. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that I dislike golf. I tried to stick it out, but I couldn’t.” He laughed. “I don’t like it much either, but a few of my colleagues like it.” he paused. “Let’s just go to the clubhouse and get some drinks.” “Yeah, that sounds better than this.”

About fifteen minutes into the drive, I asked, “Why so slow?” “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you feel the need, the need for… going faster?” I laughed so loudly I almost snorted and had to put both of my hands over my nose since even a baby like me recognizes the famous movie quote he almost said. “You’re a funny guy in an unassuming way.” He turned a slight shade of pink. “Yeah, well, in our line of work you have to find some way to be a little bit of a comedian, or you’ll end up in the loony bin.”

I moved to stand like I was about to swing a golf club. No sooner had I gone through the motion, than the first guess came out of Julian’s mouth. “Golf cart!” My eyes went wide. I stopped. Had he seen my paper? No. He couldn’t have, from that distance. He had to have actually guessed that. “No shit!” he laughed. “Was that really it?” “Yeah,” I said, laughing now too. “Woo!” he said, jumping to his feet. Veronica clapped, as did Jessica. It was an excellent guess.

A very good score for a golfer. Fortunately, Hugo is not one of my competitors. He passes me on the way back to our golf cart. I’m standing there, my club in hand, headed toward the tee box. “Kick their asses,” he says to me as we walk by each other. I was already fired up, but now I’m doubly so.

“Plus, I wanted us to spent time with each other and be friends.” He placed a golf ball on a tee and focused as he measured the distance between the ball and the hole, before swinging the club to hit the ball. It flew above the ground and fell back down, then rolled into the hole. “Bullseye.” “This is such a rich people sport,” said Sasha as she took swing position. “Next time, some shopping would suffice.” She hit the ball with her club and missed the hole. “Are you enjoying watching me humiliate myself?”

There wasn’t an atom of jest in his words, sadly they chose to ignore his warnings and carry on their frivolous actions. “You look familiar but I can’t quite recall. It’s best you don’t interfere in things that don’t concern you, that way you’ll live long. How about this? Get back into your car and drive away, I’ll pretend like you never stopped by” My ears were aching just listening to this dumb man speak, of course he looked familiar. He’s Nicklaus Harrington. The most influential and powerful man. Oh did I forget ruthless, cruel, barbaric and extremely dangerous?

“Because I sure know some good advice that will definitely make you feel better. And you probably need it for what I am about to tell you.” Gary was never serious, but right now, he sounded remotely so. I rolled over until I was sitting upright and stared up at him. "What is it?" “The erm…the golf club…there was a memo circulating and it …” “Gary.” "Okay," he sighed, raising his hand in mock defeat. And then, his upper lip curled into a smirk. "Who did you offend, though? Because you must have definitely put someone off with your goody two-shoes attitude and those poor eyes."

I replied, keeping my tone polite and deferential. He turned away, joining his friends with a swagger that only a man of his stature could muster. I lagged behind, the weight of the golf bag pulling at my shoulder, sweat trickling down my neck. The group’s laughter grew louder, their voices mingling with the clink of ice in their drinks. One of them, a silver-haired man with a gold Rolex gleaming on his wrist, grumbled, “This course is a joke. Last year, I played at Pebble Beach—now that’s a real golf course.” “You can’t compare,” Alfred replied, rolling his shoulders before lining up his next shot. “But it’s what we’ve got around here. Spencer, hurry with those clubs!”