I suspect that more profound words have been written by golf instructors and more profane words spoken by players on the topic of putting than any other aspect of the game.

Putting is a game entirely unto itself with little or no relationship to the golf course management, the ball-striking ability or the self-discipline necessary for hitting full shots with drivers, fairway clubs and irons.

Yet a little three-foot putt carries the same weight as a 300-yard drive or a 150-yard approach stiff to the flag. It is that proportional unfairness that makes putting a hair-pulling, cuss-word spewing and putter-throwing experience for the harried and disheartened on the links.

Sadly, all of this might have been different in Missouri.

During the depths of the Great Depression, when tourism and the economy were in decline, two Kansas City Democratic legislators came up with a plan designed to encourage golfers to jump in their cars and travel to the Show-Me State for short outings or vacations.

Reps. Gil Bourk and Max Astrosky thought in big terms, really big. Their legislation 78 years ago would have replaced standard putting cups with “galvanized buckets” that measured 14 inches in circumference. The United States Golf Association and purists of the game would have been outraged. But those who break out in a cold sweat over putts under 10 feet and nearly go into cardiac arrest when faced with three-footers would have applauded.

I would argue that what most golfers liked about “Caddyshack” was watching Chevy Chase chant his “na-na-na-na-na-na” mantra as he rolled golf ball after golf ball into the hole from seemingly every distance and direction.

There is no more pitiable, pitiful sound than that of a player who has muffed an important two-footer in a weekend Nassau with his pals. The sound starts deep in the gut as a small wheeze and gradually moves up the windpipe to either explode as a loud, angry roar, complete with unprintable words, or fizzle as a feeble, mournful whimper of resignation.

Bourk and Astrosky introduced their legislation on Feb. 27, 1931. If it had passed, Missouri might have evolved into the center of the golfing universe, and the mental health of thousands of players, then and now, afflicted with the yips or some other putting malady would have been relieved.

Sadly, it was not to be.

Dallas delights

If you’re heading toward the Dallas area in the next few months and taking your golf clubs, I can suggest a couple of interesting golfing venues. I get down that way quite a bit because my children and grandkids live there, and I’m always looking for a good place to play.

Lake Park Golf Course is a short, but interesting 18-hole layout in Lewisville. It doesn’t cost an arm and a leg, the staff is friendly and the course runs the gamut of toughness from simple, straightforward par threes to moderately difficult par fours. What I liked most about the course was the fairways, which were just about perfect when I played them.

On the more expensive side, although there are on-line coupons occasionally available for special rates on special days, are Bridlewood Golf Course in the community of Flower Mound, just outside Lewisville, and Tour 18 Dallas, also in Flower Mound. Both are great tracks.

I’m told a couple of touring pros call Bridlewood home. The fairways are immaculate and the greens receptive, quick and excellent. From the white tees, the course is challenging and fun; from the back, well, at my age, I don’t venture there.