Depending on the bar you frequent, sometimes it can be a good idea to ignore your friends, forget about meeting that special someone and even forgo drinking to stare at a television screen to scream “Bitch!” at the top of your lungs.

Welcome to the strange world of Golden Tee.

Forget about your youth, which was most likely spent playing Nintendo, which was justified to your mother that it “improved hand-eye coordination” or something to this effect, because this game doesn't have any real buttons. It's just a huge trackball. The basics are deceptively simple: Pick a club and hit that trackball as hard and fast as you possibly can to make your virtual golfer hit a virtual sand trap. It's much more hands-on than most video games.

Not being much of a golfer myself, I don't find the game to be the most amazing thing in the world, but much of its brilliance lies in its ability to attract an interesting cross-section of the nighttime bar scene. A recent night lent itself perfectly to some necessary field research.

Player 1 was as atypical a sports bar patron as it gets: Some piercings, tattoos on the arms, not wearing a Cubs hat. Apparently the game could bring people together, bonding over virtual golf.

Player 2 was closer to the stereotype, as he didn't have piercings or tattoos, and was wearing a Cubs hat.

Player 3 was unremarkable in all aspects. He was even more unremarkable when compared to Player 2, who was much more animated and better at Golden Tee. Player 3 was obviously recruited into playing against his will.

Player 4, if I can call her that, was Player 2's girlfriend, and didn't want to be participating.

From the outset, it seemed as if Player 2 would have been the clear-cut winner, with his playing into his own stereotype and all. Punk-rock Player 1, however, put up a good fight: Apparently, the two of them went to high school together, and tried to remain friends despite overwhelming social opposition, so Golden Tee was their substitute for real conversation. Player 3 was out of contention by the fourth hole, and took to sipping beer and looking around until it was his turn, at which time he would just shoot the ball without regard – a wedge on the initial drive, a three-wood for a 25-yard chip, so on.

Player 2 took over his girlfriend's spot by the back nine, so she leaned on the arcade box for the rest of the night looking vaguely uninterested.

The entire round would have been much less interesting had punk-rock Player 1 not sliced his hand on the machine – and not in the golf sense. He was pretty involved with the game, and by “involved with the game,” I mean screaming either “Bitch!” or “yeah!” at each shot, when he spun the trackball just a little too hard. This particular machine, possibly angry for being hit so many times by people whose real-life golf games leave a lot to be desired, decided to pop a screw loose just below the screen, strategically just above where his hand would go. And as we learned in high school physics, velocity is sometimes difficult to control. The screw, needless to say, wasn't too kind to the palm of his hand. While it wasn't a bad injury, I still think it was a lame excuse to ensure he wasn't spanked by his sports-bar buddy. Players 3 and 4 showed considerable interest in the game after this.

So Golden Tee, then, can be viewed as an allegory for life: Sometimes the you hit the ball right, sometimes you don't, and most of the time your friends will put up with you until something much more interesting happens, like inadvertent injury.

If you're interested, the 2004 Player of the Year competition will be held in Chicago. Still seems a lot of work to swing virtual club at a virtual ball, but if it works for you, get your punk-rock buddy, a friend who doesn't care and your girlfriend, and hit the bars.