Apparently, I have a very whiny tone to my voice when I play golf. More than one playing partner has mimicked me, I would say, to perfection.
Riding up the fairway, next shot. My partner says to me he has been working on mimicking the way I talk. Mind you, he is not a Southerner. He sounds like a bird in a Tarzan movie, no words, just high-pitched tones. It hits me that I really do sound like that.
If I hit the shot the way I want, I strut like James Bond. Bad shot, Pee-wee Herman. Ball is in the air, the pitch of my voice gets higher and higher.
The smoke from my partner’s cigar rises in a random way, like my approach shot. I chirp like a strange bird.
I can’t help it. Maybe in my soul I am some kind of whiny-ass bird, reincarnated. No matter how much I call into the jungle, the ball doesn’t listen.
Dana always tells me it’s my tone.
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