Guest columnist Gene Stamell: Chablis or merlot? That all depends …
Several mornings a week, I play nine holes with golfing buddies Sean and Chris.
We have similar interests, hold similar views on the state of the world, and we appreciate one another’s sense of humor. We get along well, as we hack and chunk and sweat our way through the fairways at Cherry Hill, in Amherst.
But I have come to realize (I don’t know why it took me this long) that we differ in one, significant way: I whine and they don’t. When Chris hits a lousy shot, he might berate himself with a soft, “Oh man,” or announce, in a louder voice: “Next shot — another opportunity to excel.” And he says this with a smile on his face! A smile, mind you, after he has topped his white Titleist and rolled it 30 yards into the rough. Sean is no better. He’ll slice a fairway iron and mutter, with little emotion, something like “Oops. A little off on that one.”
I mean, come on! I’m sure you agree with me, Dear Reader, that these are obvious signs of repressed emotions. What Sean and Chris do when they get home, I do not know, but I surely hope they don’t unleash their unexpressed hostilities on their families!
I, on the other hand, have a healthier reaction to my (many) bad shots. I moan, I sulk, I whine aloud with phrases such as, “GENE! What was that?!” or, “What is wrong with you? How bad can you be?” or “Why do you even play this evil game?” These are normal, health exclamations, are they not? Hey, I’m not going to go home and hurt anyone.
One day, a few weeks ago, I shared my thoughts with my buddies. I said, “How come you two never whine after hitting crummy shots?” They were silent until Sean said, “Geno. Maybe you should become a whine consultant.” “A whine consultant!” I thought. Maybe Sean was on to something.
After mulling over this idea for a while, I experienced a (minor) epiphany: there are people in the world who do not know how to whine! And lacking this ability or, shall we say, skillset, they run the risk of exploding in anger on the golf course or, God forbid, in real life! (Of course, golf and life intersect on many planes — fodder for another column.)
Realizing there exists a real need for whine instruction, and figuring I could make a pretty penny serving as an instructor, I decided to take things one step further. In conjunction with teaching poor, repressed souls how to whine, why not pair specific whines with specific wines? I should add here that I have been on several wine tours in Europe and have knowledge in this field (although I never spend more than $17 for a bottle and, truth be told, don’t really care much about how it tastes, as long as it’s drinkable.)
Yes. I plan to open a Whine-Wine consultancy, to be called, “Chablis or Merlot? That All Depends …” The name is a work in progress, but the service to be offered is quite clear in my mind.
For example: Let’s assume that you, Dear Reader, come to me, needing to learn to whine about not having the proper attire for an upcoming engagement. Based on your personality and my acute ability to sense “who you are,” I would instruct you with the perfect whine to fit this upsetting-but-not-life-shattering problem. I would also recommend an appropriate wine to pair with the whine you have learned, in this case, most likely, a 30- to 40-year-old La Chablisienne, unoaked, with a classic lemon, green apple bouquet. At $20 a bottle, it will bring both a fruity flavor and a smile to your lips.
Obviously, more serious situations would call for vastly different whines, heartfelt and beseeching. Such whines might be paired with, say, a La Jota Howell Mountain merlot, red and deep and rich, or, for the budget conscious, a simple Kendall Jackson merlot might serve the purpose.
As I write this, I am rethinking the name of my consultancy. Perhaps
Wines For Whiners might be more catchy but, then again, I don’t want to attract clients who already know how to whine. After all, the best way for me to pair a wine with a whine is for me to teach the whine first.
“Oh, I don’t know. GEEZ, Gene! Maybe this whole thing is a dumb idea!”
Gene Stamell is open to new ideas for the name of his new venture. He can be reached at [email protected].
Read the Original Article
This article was originally published by Daily Hampshire Gazette. Click below to read the full article on their website.
Visit Daily Hampshire Gazette
