[A repeat from November 17, 2016] I enjoy playing golf during the summer and in the shoulder seasons. And my preference is to wear shorts. In the summer, that’s an easy sell. Looking around the golf course on a hot summer day, most guys are wearing shorts.
However once Labor Day arrives and the temperature begins its inexorable slide down the thermometer, the long pants start coming out. Even when it’s 60 degrees. But not me. . . . .
I can’t count the number of times someone has said – as I walk in the locker room on a chilly Saturday morning – “you’re wearing shorts!?!?” Posed as a question, the answer would be obvious — from my knobby, scarred legs. Yes. I am – indeed – wearing shorts. But when presented as a statement, it might just suggest that I meet someone’s definition of “knucklehead” (see February 13, 2014, for the proper definition of “knucklehead”).
Hey – I’m comfy in shorts. But I also figure if a 110 pound cocktail waitress can wear a miniskirt when it’s 10 below zero, I can wear shorts to golf on a day when Andy Avalos says “it’s going to be 59 degrees and sunny.” Such weather is in my opinion shortsworthy.