Longer days, dreamy moments in the setting sun

DO WE SOCAL GOLFERS know how lucky we are? It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that most of us don’t think twice that our golf season never really ends. Just this year I played on New Year’s Day with my friend, Ted. We simply swapped our hats for beanies and by round’s end, we had taken off our sweatshirts; I am certain we have a new tradition. Now, with the days longer and warmer, I am reminded that there is another kind of golf I shouldn’t take for granted: twilight.

It’s not everyone’s favorite. Why start something you can’t finish? Why play when you’ve been exhausted by the day, risking sloppy form? I can’t argue with those reasons, but I love the dreamy quality of starting something when the day is supposed to be ending. It feels like stealing time, like stretching the hours beyond their limits while the rest of the world carries on. Stepping onto the fully warm grass as the sun hangs low, the sky a bursting mélange of blues and pinks and oranges, feels rejuvenating. Photographers call it “magic hour” and on a green, with the shadows of my partners yawning toward the fringe, I can’t say I disagree.

Twilight golf reduces the game to its simplest joys. The goal is still the same — ball, hole, advance — but how I get there feels different. As a 25 index, 18 holes always seems to have the added pressure of breaking 100. My mind becomes preoccupied with how close I’ll cut it.

However, these twilight outings, many times solo stints, involve a second ball to test Player B’s ability. On-course practice seems to hit differently. I certainly roll more putts. I’m suddenly more free and loose, swinging the club for the fun of it, and my slices only mean extending the evening walk while a pure shot is that much more sublime when wholly present.

In a culture of over-scheduling and hyper-notifying, twilight golf offers a different message: that life can be slow and intentional. There are no upcoming meetings, no incoming calls and nowhere to be except the putting surface in front of us, beckoning more gently than usual. Out here, the stresses of the day are allowed to be forgotten, filed away under tomorrow’s to-dos. I appreciate these hours and bask in them, for fall and winter are just around the corner to take them back.