Wrong Number! By Tom Olkowski, Ph.D. MTT Contributing Writer "Three things never to carry in your golf bag; a cell phone, a pager, a Palm Pilot." From Esquire Magazine - Things A Man Should Know About Golf. During the 3rd round of the Bay Hill Invitational last month, Tiger Woods suddenly backed off a tee shot, and announcers Bob Murphy and Johnny Miller echoed almost in unison, "Geez, a cell phone! That has no place out here." Yet, despite their inevitable contribution to slow play as more golfers stop to take calls and the intrusiveness of their dopey little tunes that announce incoming calls, cell phones continue to haunt the links. Inexplicably, cell phones, like cigars, have established an unspoken bond with golf. As witness to this phenomenon, both local newspapers recently carried two different ads implying that golf and wireless phones somehow belong together. The first, from a local phone dealer, portrays two golfers hitting balls on the range below the line, "Swing into action with the (Insert Brand Name of Phone Name Here)." The implied message is that these two duffers are willing to drop their clubs instantly to take a call or, perhaps, they can call for lessons when they discover that talking on the phone and hitting balls at the same time is not conducive to good golf. The second ad, from a local phone company, is even more preposterous. It pictures two golfers, bags slung over their shoulders, walking up a fairway. The tag line here reads, "Your drive off the first tee is a beauty. Call your buddy in New York." If carried to extremes, you can imagine, "Your second shot hits a tree branch and falls into knee high weeds, call a casual acquaintance in Cincinnati." "Your third shots sails over the green and into a bunker, call that creepy kid you used to tease in Hoboken." Should the golfer in question proceed to take a six on the hole with a call after each shot, I suspect his golf career would meet an untimely end at the hands of both his own foursome and the one behind him. Either that or, because of exorbitant phone bills, he wouldn't be able to afford to play golf any longer. Both ads suggest to me that the bumper sticker, "Get off the damned phone and drive!" applies equally to roads as well as tee boxes. But, unless you've been too busy talking on the phone to notice, cell phone misadventures occur on courses daily. Here are just a couple I've experienced recently. While working as a course ambassador one Sunday, I stood on the first tee chatting with a foursome waiting to start their round when one of them pulled out his phone and made a call. "Hi, Bubba. What are you up to? We're just waiting to tee off. Here's Dave." "Yo, Bubmeister, it's Dave. Just about to tee off, man. Say "hi" to Tim." "What's up, Bub? Timmy here. Yeah, just about to let the big dog eat. Here's Bob." "Hey, Bubby, it's Bobby. Got to go, man, teeing off you know." After listening to these scintillating conversations, I could only hope that Bubby didn't live in New York so they had a reason to call him again if one of them managed to hit a decent drive. I also feared that, if Bubby lived nearby, he might drop whatever he was doing, drive over to the course, and try to brain these four with his own driver for reminding him that they were here and he wasn't. On another occasion I played in a foursome with a phone-toting golfer who had a home adjoining the course. After teeing off, he called his wife, not to tell her about his first drive, but to say that they would be passing their house in approximately two hours. From that point on, he called her after every second hole to keep her informed of our progress. Curiously, when we finally arrived in front of his house, there was absolutely no sign of recognition from within - no sirens blaring, no flags waving, nothing. The calls immediately started again, this time, however to inform her that we had successfully passed the house and when she could expect him for dinner. I wondered for a moment how Barbara Nicklaus might have handled the situation if Jack called her every two holes. I suspect it might be something like, "For crying out loud, Jack! I'll never get dinner done if you keep interrupting me with these pointless calls. Now either win that damned tournament or you'll be sleeping in the garage tonight!" Finally, in the one rare instance I could truly appreciate, an out-of-state visitor aced the most beautiful hole on our course. In celebration she elatedly borrowed a phone to break the good news to her pro back in Chicago. Now that was a tee shot worth calling someone about, even if they didn't live in New York. Other than that, I think anyone who can't get through eighteen holes without talking on the phone really has the wrong number. Tom Olkowski is a clinical psychologist in private practice in Denver. The only call he's willing to take on the course is an invitation from Jamie Lee Curtis to join her for a golf weekend in Hawaii.