THE CHEAP SEATS with STEVE CAMERON: Hopefully getting my head examined helps my golf game

I don’t need a calendar.

The sunny weather and that hypnotic smell of cut grass, makes it so, so obvious that we’ve officially reached golf season.

Sure, I know that if you’re teeing it up seriously, you’d be out on the course about 10 minutes after you see flags popping up — no matter if it’s mid-January.

Age and an aching spine have reduced the total number of days I can play now, so I have to pick my spots.

No more of those five-day marathons south of the border, with quick breaks for a burger and a cold one.

My few minutes between holes these days usually involve some gentle stretching.

Ahhhhh.

That’s better.

Let’s see, we were talking about chances to play, and how you can’t just go whack it around for 36 holes anymore.

For the last three or four years, I’ve saved my swings for the first weekend in June — which is really laughable because I lived a few years in northern Scotland, and the only way weather came into play was deciding if you’d need two turtle necks (with a spare in your bag).

ANYHOW, the plan these days involves hitting a few balls on the range — gently, gently — and then seeing how various muscles and joints recovered about a week later.

If it’s warm enough (and I can play upright), the goal is to play some real golf around the end of May.

I’m getting a little more nervous each year, because too damn many body parts have stiffened up.

That brings me to a humorous conversation I had with my doc, who happens to be the best neurosurgeon between here and Paraguay.

Naturally, we were talking golf, and I was whining about how my knees had been added to the list of lower joints that were making things tougher and tougher.

“Be grateful,” he said. “As long as you can still bend over to take a ball out of the hole, you’re still good to go.”

Hmmm, speaking of hitting an occasional good shot.

I had been thinking about all these creaks and squeaks, and particularly about whether an ace neurosurgeon might have a thought for me.

Something besides weak humor.

THE DOC turned serious for a few minutes, and said: “I think it’s time we tried to make your life a little more pleasant.”

Naturally, I asked what he had in mind.

“Brain surgery,” he said.

I laughed, which I thought was the appropriate response — but then discovered he wasn’t kidding.

“Hey, I want to wake up and still know which club I’m holding,” I said.

But.

It turned out he wasn’t joking. Not a bit.

“I can keep you sharp,” he said. “I’d work on a couple of nerves — easy ones to reach — and what happens is that you can’t feel the pain.

“Maybe something is still there, but it’s much easier to deal with.”

Now, I’m not a guy who volunteers for surgery done by bots.

Call me old-fashioned.

But this was no joke.

Plus, golf weather is coming.                                                  

I’m going to think this deal through.

It would be huge fun to beat some pals I know, and then write “AI” on my scorecard.

For now, I’m in test phase.

And I’ve added about 10 yards to each of my irons.

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Steve Cameron’s “Cheap Seats” columns appear in The Press three times each week, normally Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday unless, you know, stuff happens.

Steve suggests you take his opinions in the spirit of a Jimmy Buffett song: “Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On.”