A Confession Like No Other: When the “F-Word” Isn’t What You Expect
Confession booths are usually filled with tales of regret—forgotten promises, fleeting tempers, or moments of weakness. But one day, a priest encountered a story so absurd it nearly broke his calm. It all began with a man confessing to saying the “F-word.”
At first, the priest thought it was a typical slip of frustration. But as the man laid out what really happened, the twists kept coming—and the priest’s patience was tested in ways he never anticipated.
A man stepped into the confessional and whispered, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
The priest smiled gently. “Tell me what weighs on your heart.”
The man sighed. “Over the weekend, I used the F-word.”
The priest nodded, relieved. “Well, say three Hail Marys and try to speak more kindly.”
But the man shook his head. “Please, Father, there’s more to the story.”
Intrigued, the priest leaned closer. “Go on.”
The man began: “I skipped church on Sunday and went golfing with my friends.”
The priest raised an eyebrow. “And that made you curse?”
“No, no,” the man said quickly. “On the very first hole, I hit my drive, but it sliced hard into the trees.”
The priest nodded knowingly. “That’s when it happened.”
“No,” the man insisted. “When I walked up, I saw my ball had actually bounced back onto the fairway—a perfect chance for a great shot.”
The priest tilted his head. “So you cursed out of surprise?”
“Not yet, Father,” said the man, growing impatient. “Just as I was about to swing, a squirrel dashed out, grabbed my ball, and scrambled up a tree.”
The priest’s eyes widened. “That must have been it.”
“Wait, there’s more,” the man continued. “An eagle swooped down, snatched that squirrel right out of the tree, and flew off with it.”
The priest gasped. “An eagle? Incredible!”
“Exactly. But then,” the man said, “as the eagle soared above the green, the squirrel dropped my ball… and it landed just five inches from the hole.”
The priest could barely hold back his laughter. “So you cursed then?”
“No, Father,” the man said, deadpan.
The priest finally slammed his hand on the confessional wall and exclaimed, “Don’t tell me—you missed the f***ing putt!”
Conclusion
What started as a simple confession turned into an almost unbelievable tale of nature’s antics and a golfer’s woes. In the end, it wasn’t the squirrel, the eagle, or even the miraculous bounce that earned the infamous “F-word”—it was the one thing every golfer fears most: a missed putt. Proof that sometimes, in golf and life, it’s the smallest failures that cut the deepest.