Whether readers are relatively new to the game of golf or old hands with impressive handicaps, most golfers share an unbridled enthusiasm for the game as proven by the blockbuster success of the first Chicken Soup for the Golfer's Soul. Due to popular demand, the coauthors have compiled this follow-up filled with more stories to celebrate the foibles, feats and famous people on the fairway.

Written by professional and amateur golfers, caddies and weekend hackers, these stories reveal the most universal aspects of the game so many millions enjoy.

With stories about sportsmanship, overcoming obstacles, connecting generations and savoring each moment, this book is an entertaining read as well as a profound reminder for lessons learned both on and off the greens.

Until I started playing golf, I thought that wine tasting had to be the most confusing thing I'd ever done. People with names like Higgins rambling on about residual sugar and tannin, describing each quarter-ounce sample in terms like "full-bodied, yet unpretentious." And I could never remember whether I was supposed to age it, chill it or drink it with fresh fish during a full moon. Just when I thought I was a genius for knowing the difference between a cabernet and cabaret, I went to the pro shop for golf balls.

"What kind?" the pro asked.

"I dunno, white, I guess.ö

He rubbed his hands together as he scanned the tri-level ball display. "Do you want a two-piece ball?" I though this was a joke, of course. "No," I said. "I like to start off with them whole. They'll break when I wallop them with my driver.ö

"Oh," he said without as much as a smile. "A big hitter. Then you want distance.ö

He handed me a shiny box with gold lettering. The price tag on the end was more than I'd paid for dinner for my wife and I the previous evening.

"These have computer-generated dimple patterns and use a complex two-piece injection molding system. They offer blistering distance.ö

"Perfect," I said. "Course I'll probably overshoot the green now on any hole less than four hundred yards.ö

He still didn't laugh. He just removed the box of balls from my hand and said, "Aahhh ... stopping power.ö

He slid another brightly colored box across