The manic and sweaty antics of Mr. Barris, The Unknown Comic, et alia left me more disturbed than amused as a young boy, and I almost never tuned in. Yet, I was mesmerized by the idea of rendering a final and negative judgement with one swing of the mallet.
I love golf so much that I can only remember doing this once, when I stopped for a beverage at the turn at Quashnet Valley in Mashpee, Massachusetts, and failed to play the back nine. Does that even count?