Golf is an odd sport—it punishes more than it rewards. That is, bad shots are punished much more than good shots are rewarded. So there is a core stress that never leaves, as The Downside shadow hangs forever over every shot. The stress is quiet, really. It's the fear of that groaned lip-out from four feet, the shank, the yip. To take on this sport, you have to be something of a masochist and something of a warrior at the same time: If you don't drink stress and immediately piss it out like it's your third bottle of Gatorade in an hour, go back and reread the part about lifestyle and being a moderately successful orthodontist married to an accountant. They don't even know what stress is.