What is it about golf that golfers love? Are we masochists who love the frustration of a finely crafted double bogey? When we make the occasional par, do we envision ourselves as Tiger Woods in his prime? Are we just crazy? Google Robin Williams on inventing the game of golf. He talks about digging a gopher hole hundreds of yards away and putting s—t in your way like trees and tall grass just so you can lose your ball. He explains why they call a shot a stroke – because every time you miss, you feel like you’re gonna die!

One of my oldest golf buddies is named Pig. This is not to be confused with other golf friends Big Dog and Dead Bear. One of the things I admire about Pig is his self-awareness and modesty. When we were younger, a young woman with kind intentions, upon hearing his nickname, cooed “Awww, why do they call you Pig?” Pig replied serenely, “Because I’m short and fat and I look like a pig.”

My local golf group consists of several like-minded fanatics. We tee it up a couple of times a week. Almost all have handicaps in the teens, which means we have modest abilities. It occurred to me recently what high achievers most of these guys are. There’s a global CEO, a former nuclear submariner turned real estate magnate, a Harvard Law grad, the CFO of a major sports empire, a construction guy, a lawyer and a successful entrepreneur or two. I have calculated their collective net worth – I want to be precise – at between a gazillion and a bazillion U.S. dollars.

Or, as Forrest Gump would say, “richer than Davy Crockett.” They’re fine fellows all who don’t wear their success on their respective sleeves. As golf is a great equalizer and humbler of the mighty, you’d think that the higher the achiever in business, the more they’d be humbled by the game. In a classic example of “life ain’t fair,” let me just say that isn’t the case here.

As I write this, we have just completed the 20th rendition of the wildly mis-named golf tournament, the Edwardsville Open, or the EO. The Edwardsville part is fine because that’s the dot on the map in the Northern Neck where we compete; but it’s not an “Open” which implies that anyone can play. Mainly due to accommodation space, the field is limited to nine players. Someone literally has to die for someone else to get in, which, sadly, has happened twice. You can be admitted to Augusta National more easily than the EO. I hasten to add the blindingly obvious: plainly, getting a spot in the EO is not quite so desirable as one at Augusta.