Despite the lingering cold weather and the occasional snow flurry, the harbingers are impossible to ignore — the birds are causing a racket before sunrise, the ticks are waking up, I caught a whiff of the first skunk, the ants are claiming their territory in the kitchen, and the Sox are preparing for yet another disastrous season in Florida.

Yup, spring is just around the corner. All this points to one unavoidable fact: Golf season will be kicking off any day now.

Back in my scuffling days, I spent countless hours (many during which I should have been studying) playing any sport in which a ball of some sort was employed. I played at the university level and beyond in a couple of them. Golf was definitely not one of them.

But as the years (lots of them) have gone by, injuries and aging have taken their toll. I have been forced to search out other modes of recreation. I tried very hard to avoid picking up a golf club, because to me it signaled the last stop. But at age 50, I couldn’t avoid it any longer unless I was going to devote myself to playing checkers. I was going to have to learn to play golf — the “game” I had been avoiding like the plague.

I am officially old. I have been playing the “game” for 30 years now (you do the math, it’s too painful for me) and I still have trouble coming to terms with it.

The main issue for me is that I have trouble thinking about golf as a sport. I view it more as a “game,” more akin to activities such as backgammon or Monopoly. Admittedly, I’m not very good at the game, which probably plays a big role in my opinion (I’ve never scored below 90 without cheating,) but sometimes I do find myself having a good time walking through the woods looking for my ball and those of other duffers.

I thought I might float a couple of ideas that could go a long way toward changing the game of golf into an actual sport. I know the golf veterans out there will take offense at these proposals, but I would love to hear some of their comments.

Let’s start with the caddie. His job is to tote the player’s clubs around the course, hand the clubs to the “athlete,” clean them, and return them to the bag. He also gives advice on various aspects of the shot. Please. The golfer should carry his own clubs and make decisions for himself. If a coach is desired, hide him in the crowd, and he can give signals surreptitiously. Other players could try to steal the signs. That would be fun to watch.

Next, the game lasts way too long, Getting rid of the caddie will help, but the countless practice swings and the endless analysis of each shot is tedious. A player should be given 15 seconds to make the shot. For every 2 seconds he can shave off that period, perhaps one-fifth of a stroke could be deducted from his score. Maybe then we’d be able to watch the 6 p.m. news on TV.

The courses should be more wild — less manicured. In Switzerland, a company constructs a portable course that’s moved through various Alpine regions of the country. There’s the added benefit of breathtaking scenery.

A defensive component might be added to the game. Competing players in the group might be allowed to wander around, talk, and jump around the hole as the putter lines up his shot.

Finally, and perhaps my most important suggestion, is to allow spectators to cheer, chant, boo, gesture, clap … during the entire contest. The argument against this is that it would distract the golfer from concentrating on the task at hand. Concentration is critical in this game, but he who can concentrate best should be able to best block out the interference.

Tell me this. When a baseball player is in the batter’s box and another guy is 60 feet, 6 inches away, standing on a little hill with essentially a rock in his hand and will be throwing it at your head at about 100 mph, isn’t focus of the essence? This guy has to block out the noise of 80,000 screaming fans. Now that’s concentration for you.

These kinds of elitist games need to allow the crowd to have some fun, too. Tennis also needs some work. Back in the 1950s, we on the high school tennis team would go to Forest Hills, Queens to watch the U.S. Open Tennis Tournament, which was played on grass in those days. In one match, our team managed to sneak into the first row behind the baseline.

The player in the far court served a fault and the ball bounced into the crowd. My friend made a spectacular catch and meant to keep the ball as a souvenir. After a short pause the chair umpire, in a very stern and supercilious tone, announced over the loudspeaker, “Please return the ball. This is not Ebbets Field” (then the home of the Brooklyn Dodgers baseball team). My buddy stood up and threw what I believe was a screwball at the umpire — with some pace. The crowd cheered.

Oh, and by the way, that baseball player I mentioned earlier who was coming to the plate to face the pitcher — he didn’t even have a caddie. Can you believe he had to carry his bat all the way from the dugout to the batter’s box — all by himself?!

Take me out to the ballgame.

Jonathan Kahane lives in Westhampton.