It was Friday, April 8th, 1994 and Kurt Cobain was dead. As a teenage boy, I was supposed to be upset. This was the biggest news in music since Elvis thrust his pelvis into the public eye or The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan. I was supposed to somehow make this about me and how the world would never be the same.
A dense weight laid on the grunge kids in my school and some went home to listen to Heart-Shaped Box and smoke cigarettes. Some kids stayed in their classes but were quiet and reserved. A few kids did donuts in the senior parking lot screaming “My Girl” at the top of their lungs. This was the worst day of many of the student’s lives and was clear each person deals with loss differently.
I didn’t care.
My buddy, Lucas and I left school early and drove to the local golf course where his Dad was an assistant pro. Which at the time I thought meant he helped people who were actual professionals. Turns out, I wasn’t far off with that assessment. When we arrived, his dad was folding shirts on the counter and was oblivious to the pain and anguish that was about to be laid out in front of him.
“Hey buddy,” He said. “Beautiful day for golf.”
“Is it?” Lucas said. “Kurt Cobain died today Dad!”
“Is he a member?”
“No! He is the greatest singer of all time and now we will never hear is music. We will never get to hear the melancholy and methodic notes spew from his mouth again. We will never get to feel the stylistic extremes of an unabashed artist. The world lost one of the greatest and most influential rock artist EVER!”
“We just go the new Ping’s in today if you want to go try them out,” Lucas dad responded.
“Are you serious? Did you not hear me?”
“Actually no I didn’t, I was talking to that guy over there,” he said. “What is going on buddy?”
In an instant, Lucas ripped a driver off the wall and motioned us to the range outside. I grabbed a club and followed. I told him I have never played golf before and he said I would learn pretty quick and that it wasn’t that hard.
It took me close to 7-minutes to put the ball on the tee and then I stepped back and took a mighty cut. I swung over the top of the ball and missed by 3-feet. Lucas laughed. It was then I had two of the most classic lines of all time, based on the circumstance.
“Ok Lucas, here we are now, entertain us.”
“What?” He confusingly asked.
“Nevermind“. I said.
I stared at him waiting for recognition of my brilliance. He stared back with a glazed look of stupidity. It turns out superfan was a poser. I never let his secret out but I did end up hitting the ball and eventually got hooked and have been playing for 25 years.
Cobain’s death handed me the beautiful game of golf and in some ways, changed my life. Oh yeah, and All Apologies to my buddy who is Dumb.