Urban Golf. Some call it an "extreme sport," I call it "junkyardly." Very, very junkyardly. An embodiment of junkyardliness. Absolute junkyardification.

I quote from the site of the Urban Golf Association:

Who needs Pebble Beach? What's a master, anyway? Where's my Bullhorn?

From the people who brought you the Urban Iditarod, the Urban Golf Association brings you the 4th Bi-Annual Emperor Norton North Beach Open.

That's right folks, golfing in North Beach. Nine Holes, Nine Bars, and not a Nine Iron in sight. Bring any club you can find (a 3 iron is handy, but a putter is great) as we golf through the streets of San Francisco. Each hole offers fun urban challenges, hazards, and yes - even danger!

Why wait in annoying lines at Mini-putt course? Why suck up to 6AM tee times? The UGA (Urban Golf Association) offers you non-stop fun all day long, with plenty of watering holes for every putting hole."

Yes, yes, I know, it's an adult-only kind of thing, combining a plethora of potentially precarious putting with the increasingly debilitating joys of bar-hopping. So, it's not what you might consider a paragon of junkyardhood. But in every other aspect, in the creativity and spontaneity and sheer foolery of it all, it is an apotheosis of extreme junkyardliness.

Also known as Crossgolf, according to the BBC Sport Academy, traditional Urban Golfers (yes, it's been around that long - since 1992, at least) use a leather ball filled with goose feathers." I of course, would recommend the three-sack Sacky Sack.

Labels: games, Junkyard Sports