Yesterday on my way home I saw a couple of fuzzy, long haired hippy types out playing curbside croquet golf. The improvised, obstacle laden course made me think of the peculiar variant of croquet my sister and cousins and I played during yesteryear summers. We’d start at one end of the yard and end in the other. Given that our yard was about an acre and a half and included an orchard, hills, fencing, and a pack of yapping neighborhood dogs, these games could take more than an hour to complete and usually involved a good deal of sweating and debate, and sometimes even bloodshed.
It is a shame that we adults, with all of our dignity and responsibility, tend to give up such foolish games. A rousing game of field croquet sounds very satisfying to me right now.
True “Extreme Croquet” may, on the other hand, be going a bit too far.
