Sean Shields

Hosh Jarper didn’t often mess up his routine, but the moment he stepped onto the tee box with his buddies B9K, Swan, and Matt East, he knew something was off. Namely, his boots.

“Fellas,” Hosh announced, stomping the ground, “I forgot my golf shoes.”

B9K, fiddling with his Bluetooth speaker, didn’t look up. “And what? You think the boots are gonna make you worse? You already stink.”

“It’s the elevation, B9K. Golf shoes put you at the perfect height. Without it, I’m compromised.” Swan, sipping a soda like he was there for the snacks, rolled his eyes. “You’re blaming elevation for the fact you can’t hit straight?”

“I’m not blaming anything,” Hosh shot back. “Physics is a cruel mistress, and today she’s slapping me with these boots.” The first tee confirmed it. Hosh’s drive veered so far left it might’ve hit a dog walker in the next county. By the third hole, he was spending more time in the trees than the squirrels. Swan had to pull him out of a sand trap, where Hosh had taken up residence like it was a beach.

“It’s the damn elevation!” Hosh yelled, chucking his club at his bag.

Matt East, always the philosophical one, chimed in. “Maybe your game’s got nothing to do with elevation and everything to do with balance. Life’s highs and lows, y’know?”

Hosh stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Matt, I don’t need a Ted Talk. I need proper footwear!” The game descended into chaos. On the fifth hole, Hosh hit a worm burner so hard it ricocheted off a sprinkler head and nearly took out B9K’s speaker. “That shot had potential!” Hosh yelled.

By the seventh hole, Swan couldn’t hold back. “You’ve lost ten balls and nearly impaled Matt East with your wedge. How is that elevation?”

“It’s all connected!” Hosh declared, pointing at his boots. “Golf. Life. The universe. Some days you’re on top of the world. Other days…” He motioned to his ball, stuck in a bush. “You’re digging through thorns, trying to survive.”

The group burst into laughter, and Hosh couldn’t keep a straight face. On the final hole, he narrated his shots. “Jarper steps up… and misses spectacularly! The crowd gasps as the legend crumbles under improper footwear!”

Back at the clubhouse, Hosh sighed. “Life’s a lot like golf. It’ll humble you when you think you’ve got it figured out. You just gotta laugh through the lows and soak up the highs.”

B9K raised his glass. “To Hosh Jarper and his tragic elevation!”

For Hosh, that was as high as he needed to be.