Funny Golf Sayings Novels & Stories

Sergey and his wife were playing golf together. When I visited him, without warning, he was about to hit a shot. My eyes shifted to the lounge chair behind him; Tanya and Daria were also there. So I came here on purpose to ruin their time. Sergey positioned himself correctly, swung his golf club, but the ball flew in the wrong direction. The audience laughed, while Sergey's face twisted in disgust. "Nice shot," I said sarcastically. My voice made the others turn their heads in my direction.

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.”

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.

The air crackled with their adrenaline and camaraderie, their anticipation for the upcoming game contagious. As I pushed my way through the crowd, one guy jeered, "Hey, look at Shorty over here! What's your sport, little man? Mini-golf?" Laughter erupted around me. Another chimed in, "More like the Elf Olympics!" Their laughter felt like a punch to the gut, but I wasn't surprised. I already knew my height would be another point of contention I'd have to deal with here. Trying to mask my discomfort, I shot back, "You know what they say about us little guys, right? We're like ninjas, here one moment, gone the next." Their laughter only grew louder, echoing loudly in my ears.

“So… Do you always play button-ups? You are a tad bit overdressed for a game of golf.” I smirked. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself.” He chuckled. “Confidence, I like that.” “I prefer the term accurate.” I stepped up, planted my feet, and drove the ball straight down the fairway, the sort was clean, sharp, immensely satisfying. It cut through the air making Callahan raised his brows. “Nice shot,” he muttered. “Thanks,” I said, as if it wasn’t the beginning of his humiliation. He took his position next, adjusted his cap like he was Tiger Woods reborn, and swung. His ball sailed, but moved just slightly rightz it wasn't exactly a bad shot, but it wasn't just good enough.

“I see you still play golf, let's see if you've gotten rusty, shall we?” “You might be the rusty one.” Liam countered jokingly. “Don't be so sure!”

eat? "Then, the big fish said, 'I... like... to... eat... small... fish... that... talks... slowly.' "After that, the small fish said, 'Oh, no!'" Nobody made a sound after Stella told the joke. Stella also thought that it was kind of a bad joke. So, she coughed and said, "Is it not funny?" Vermont showed his support. "No, it's hilarious." However, Keegan said sarcastically, "Do you mean ridiculous?"

“So… it’s a date?” I gave him a small nod. “It’s a date.” His smile widened instantly. “Wait, wait,” Eli cut in dramatically, hand to his chin like a philosopher. “What do people even wear to go golfing?” I groaned. Of course. “You don’t own anything golf-related, do you?” I teased. “Of course not!” Eli huffed. “But outfits matter.” “You really don’t need to worry,” Aiden said, laughing. “It’s just the café. Wear whatever you want.”

“You’re playing for your life now. Don’t choke.” He swallowed hard, his eyes darting back to the ball. He swung, and the club sliced through the air with a whiff, missing the ball completely. Marco snorted a laugh, and Scott shook his head, grinning. While Lorenzo and Niko just couldn't find amusement in anything. We were moving toward the next hole, the click of golf cleats on grass filling the air. Briggs was dragging behind, his face a sickly shade of gray, sweat glistening on his brow. Niko and Scott flanked him, subtly boxing him in.

It was nice to see someone who took a better shot than me “Three years and ten months. So technically, I’ve been playing for four years” he said, laughing We headed to where our balls landed, and I made the next shot since mine was further away, and it automatically went into the hole. I turned around and high-fived my caddie as he gave me a different club for the next hole “You know in New York, I was the best. I used to make eleven holes in one out of eighteen holes” I bragged as we moved to the next hole