It is not for everyone, but golf can be an exciting — and addicting — sport.

Sure, when you look at it from afar it appears to take a long time and is boring — you are not wrong about the former. I mean, you are hitting a ball with a club, walking, or riding, and trying to put said ball into a hole hundreds of yards away.

The sport of golf has been in my life for only two years. It started in September 2016 when I played in a four-person scramble — a type of competition where you hit from the spot of the best shot from the individual balls of the group — in Northport with co-workers. It was my first time picking up a set of clubs. I actually did not own clubs, so I had to use Ken Waltz’s.

After that day I was hooked, thanks to a birdie, on my own ball, on the par-3 18th hole. I used a 7-iron for my tee shot and stuck the ball on the green, and after trying to let someone else sink the putt for the team, I was told it was my job to go first and try to earn "my own" birdie, and I did just that: as I sank the six-foot, downhill putt.

Screams and arms raised in victory were the result.

That experience, and reaction, would make anyone want to keep playing.

As anyone that has played the game knows, golf varies with each day, and more often than not, each shot down the course.

The constant struggle of keeping your arms and body together as you swing, not to mention your head down, as well as following through and rotating your hips, sounds easier than it is. It is amazing how much precision has to go into each shot to get it down the course. It makes you appreciate watching the professionals on television who seem to do it with ease.

Naturally, after my first birdie, my expectations were sky high, but my game needed — and still needs — a lot of work, but there was/is nowhere to go but up.

Golf can be frustrating. I have had rounds where I could not hit the ball to save my life, and others where I play much better than my handicap would suggest. And there is nothing like hitting a 280-yard drive, which I do, now and then.

During those frustrating rounds, throwing the club is not out of the question, or wanting to break it over my leg, but I always have to remember that those action are not proper golf etiquette.

I have to say, from the time I picked up my first club at Northport — where my first swing was as hard as a baseball swing and I did not make contact with the ball — to now, my game has improved immensely.

Countless rounds of progression and frustration have molded my game to the point where, on a good day, I can compete with Ken, who has been playing for 30 years.

Maybe one day I will be able to have that one outstanding round that I will remember forever, but, for now, I think it is time to hit the links.