Golden Tee - rated M for violence

A few nights ago I watched a show on MTV about "gamers." It focused mostly on young people who were about 18 to 25 years old who played online, interactive video games all day and night. Heh...there's no way I'm going to make fun. I study word lists with most of my free time.

The show also featured a young guy who made some money here and there in Golden Tee tournaments. Eric loves Golden Tee. Unfortunately, a few years ago, he suffered a major Golden Tee injury. Yes...that's right...a GTI.

You see that white ball in the middle of the control panel? It's what propels the ball forward (and causes a hook or a slice if you don't hit it quite right). If you've never watched someone play Golden Tee, there are basically two methods for moving that "trackball". Some put their fingers on both sides of it and flip their hands forward really fast, as if they were trying spin something in the air. Others prefer a more aggressive approach. These guys...they draw their arm back, hand about parallel to the panel, and punch their arm forward, skimming across the top of the trackball.

And therein, my friends, lay The Sergeant's downfall.

It was early...only about 10:00 at night when a 6-month-pregnant me sat at home in bed. I had only seen my husband out the door about an hour earlier so he could meet up with his buddy for some beers.

It seems that Eric was drinking what was literally his first (and only) beer of the night when he and his friend, D.B., started their Golden Tee game. I know you can already see how this story goes, but let me tell you anyway. Just like he'd done 59 million times before (trust me, I've sat through many, many, many, manymanymany of the games), Eric drew back his arm and let the spring go. As his arm thrust forward, it missed the trackball target, and instead struck the front edge (albeit rounded edge) of the game. Because he had put so much energy into it, he still managed to bust open his hand on the machine.

The cut was right below his middle finger, about an inch long, and all the way through the flesh. D.B., a physician, somehow came to the medically-sound conclusion that a hand all busted up and such wouldn't require any sort of official, emergency medical attention...except with those medicinal implements one could find in the bar setting. They applied some ice to it...maybe some Jäger, I don't know. (To his credit...sort of...D.B. did go out to his car to see if he had a suture kit. Heh...heh...heh. Yeah, I'm not kidding. He did not have one with him.)

Now...I didn't know any of this had happened. When Eric walked back in the house, he didn't speak but only stretched his hand out toward me, palm up. I could see the large cut on his hand and I could see the ligament peeking out from within it. Somehow, these sorts of things are never surprising to me and never shocking. Eric repeated D.B.'s statements that he didn't need to go to the ER. I think my reaction was something like rolling my eyes at him as I flipped my legs over the side of the bed, grabbed my jeans, and put on my shoes.

An hour later, I was admiring the ginormity to which one's ankles could swell even at only six months pregnant as I sat in the uncomfortable emergency room chair. (Does anyone else think those chairs just make you slide down, down, down so you keep having to scoot up, up, up?) At least it was fun joining in with the doctors as they (rightfully) teased Eric for having broken himself on a video game.

And, you know what? Eric's not the only one. It seems that guys break themselves on Golden Tee not only by busting their hands on the console, but by tearing rotator cuffs, accidentally putting their hands through the glass, and, sometimes, by not-so-accidentally kicking the machine.

In the end, Eric's stitches popped out. After that, there's no putting them back in without a whole bunch of yuckiness you do not want to know about. SO...they left it open to heal. Can you believe that?!?! Turns out even a drunk doctor can give some sound medical advice.