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Sports » rec.sport.golf » I don't recall ever doing this before
| I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035226] |
Sun, 28 May 2006 19:00 |
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Yesterday I went to play golf. Got out there around 3:50 and the guy told me
it would be 4:20 before I could tee off. There's a starter at the first tee,
so I figured I'd just hang out there and if an opening came up before 4:20,
he'd send me out. Sure enough, when I arrived at the first tee, there was a
twosome up on the green, nobody in the fairway, and nobody on the tee. So he
said I could just go and catch up with the twosome, who was probably going
to be waiting on the 2nd tee, as there were foursomes up ahead.
No warm-up. No stretching. No nothing. I just teed off, and off I went.
Hooked me tee shot a bit into a familiar spot. I have been in that spot so
often, I have given names to all the trees over there. Then I cold shanked
my second off a hanging lie to a spot about 40 yards to the right of the
green. Shit. Babied the third a bit and barely dribbled the ball on to the
fringe. From there, I hit a wonderful pitch to within a foot of the hole.
Tap in for bogey. Could have been worse. SHOULD have been worse. FELT a
whole lot worse than a 5.
I caught up with the twosome on the 2nd tee, and joined up. One of them said
to me, "I hope you're not amazing."
"Oh, I'm amazing, alright. Amazing at what, I'm not sure," I replied.
These guys were terrible. One could barely hit the ball out of his own
shadow.
I hit a perfect drive down the middle of the fairway. Like a rocket. Yes, I
was amazing.
It would prove to be one of very few amazing -- or even marginally
acceptable -- shots I would hit on this day.
I smother-hooked the second, then hit a decent 8-iron on to the par five
green, about 20 feet behind the hole. Three putt bogey.
Then on the par three third, I tried to work the ball right to left to a
tucked pin on the left side, which is rarely a good idea on this hole. You'd
think I'd know that by now, with the bunker left of the green the size of
Gwinnett County. Of course I pull hooked my tee shot, and naturally, it came
to rest in an impossible position, half plugged on the far edge of the
bunker. My only play was to stand outside the bunker and lean over (with my
butt in the air higher than my head) to reach down to the ball, which was
almost a full yard below my feet. Not surprisingly, I skulled the thing
across the green, nearly putting it in the water that awaits 25 yards behind
the putting surface. A good pitch gave me a chance to save bogey, but the
putt slid by. Double.
Nothing like a fast start to build confidence.
Another pull hook into the trees on the par four 4th elicited a series of
expletives from yours truly. My playing companions hit their tee shots. One
hit a low ground ball that barely missed his own left ankle and found the
water BEHIND him. The other hit a pop fly that barely cleared the water to
the left. They quit after that.
I should have.
I never found my ball in the forest to the left, but with my score already
shot for the day, I just dropped one up there, not really caring that I
wasn't following the rules. I punched one up under the trees and managed to
reach the fringe. A good chip left me with a tap-in for...well...for
whatever number it is I decided to write down.
Caught up with a threesome on the fifth hole who were playing the tips.
Geez, they hit the ball a mile. They nearly drove the green from back there.
Holy mackeral. But they didn't invite me to join up. Not yet anyway. I hit
my usual little draw down the left side, about 100 yards short of where they
hit their tee shots (and I was playing the blues, not the tips). I dug a
trench with my 2nd shot, advancing the ball about 30 yards into a fairway
bunker. From there, I managed to get it about halfway to the green. This
was not my day.
On the 6th, the threesome -- a dad and his two sons -- invited me to join
them. I managed two more decent shots, but the rest of my shotmaking
repertoire proved to be consistent with what I'd displayed thus far --
pretty much awful.
On the 9th hole, after putting two balls in the water off the tee, I dropped
one and hit my 5th shot around the corner and up to the right side of the
fairway, leaving me 185 over a ditch to the green. As I was bending over to
remove some debris from behind my ball, the right lens in my "golf glasses"
popped out. Great. Better to have this happen on this day, rather than right
in the middle of a career round. I put my "regular" glasses on, which have
bifocal lenses -- not what you want to play golf with. I nearly whiffed the
damn ball, advancing it only about 40 yards. So I take out a 7-iron for my
7th shot (or was it my 8th? Oh, who's counting anymore?) and catch just
enough of the ball to hit a quail-high screamer that barely clears the ditch
and comes to rest on the bank short of the green. From there, I hit a decent
enough pitch for my 8th (or 9th, or whatever) shot, but just belly-wedged
the ball from there, playing hockey with it, basically conceding myself a
10...or 11...or something...who the hell knows anymore.
The threesome I was with was only going 9, so I was on my own from there.
I thought seriously about leaving at that point, figuring I'd want to get
those glasses in to Lenscrafters to have them pop the lens back in and
replace the screw holding the frames together. But my watch told me there'd
be time after the round, so I ventured off to the 10th tee. From there, I
dribbled a tee shot about 50 yards from the tee. With no one behind me, I
went ahead and hit another. I blocked this one into a deep forest right of
the fairway. One more time. What's life without enough golf balls to spray
everywhere, anyway? Finally, I managed to power a mighty heeled drive about
185 down the left side, which dribbled into a decent enough lie in the light
rough. Playable enough, I thought, and by this day's standards, a keeper for
sure. My "second" shot was hit fat, easily 6 inches behind the ball, and
this 3-wood shot managed to go all of about 100 yards, thanks to the hard,
fast fairway which, miraculously, it found. From there I figured I better
lay up short of the water, so I punched an iron up there somewhere. I waited
and waited and waited for the foursome ahead of me to leave the green, and
finally hit a beautiful 8-iron that arched high and straight in the sky and
landed softly like a butterfly. Except that it landed softly like a
butterfly about 70 yards to the right of the green. How do you miss a
target 70 yards when you're hitting from 140 yards? Get Guinness on the
phone.
Hell, I couldn't even SEE the ball as it was on the ground in front of me,
looking through the reading part of these damn bifocals, let alone hit it.
After holing out on the 10th, I drove to the par three 11th tee, where the
slowsome up ahead hadn't teed off yet. And despite the fact that there was
a twosome in front of them, they didn't have the presence of mind to wave me
through and let me catch up with them. Maybe they saw me playing behind
them. I guess I can't blame them.
It was at this moment that I did something I don't recall ever doing before.
I quit mid-round. I had just had enough. The amusement, such as it was,
provided by getting one of "those" rounds out of my system had crossed a
line. I was not having fun. Enough, already.
Now, some would say this epiphany came to me much later than it might have
to others in a similar position who would have had the good sense to call it
a day much sooner. And to that, I would only say, "yes, you are probably
correct."
It occurred to me as I was sitting in the air-conditioned comfort of my
Honda driving home that it was hot as hell out there on the golf course this
day. So hot, that I had become stupid. Oh, not just stupid is as stupid
does, but just plain bonehead dumb as a rock. In hindsight, I realize that
"Atlanta hot" is nothing like the kind of hot I used to play in when I lived
in Texas. It was around 90 degrees here yesterday (with the usual 60%
humidy). Not that hot by Dallas standards, that's for sure. Heck, to Dallas
people, I was playing on what amounted to nothing more than a nice Spring
day. But my point of reference has changed in the nearly 10 years since
living in sun-baked Texas. Hell, I used to play routinely, as if it was
nothing, on 106-degree, 108-degree Summer days and never give it a second
thought. But it was hot here yesterday at "only" 90 degrees, and I was
playing blind.
I went home, dropped off the clubs, and then, after cooling off a bit, drove
to the mall to have Lenscrafters repair my glasses. Lenscrafters put that
lens back in my glasses, and replaced the screw that had come loose and
finally fallen out, causing the lens to fall out. My golf glasses are now
good to go again.
However, time will tell if I neglected to have them them check for loose
screws in my head.
Randy
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035227 ] |
Sun, 28 May 2006 19:29 |
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Nice round, Randy. :-)
That should make you appreciate the other rounds more. I hate days like
you had, but at least you know it was an off day. Some would consider it
a good day.
Cheers Lee O.
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035235 ] |
Sun, 28 May 2006 20:28 |
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Kind of like the round I just finished. My excuses incuded playing as a
walking twosome being two plastic shelled turtles who were all over the
course (but in all fairness not too far behind the turtles in front of
them), and the 90 degree heat, first day like that in quite some time.
Waiting on every shot though is what really destroys my game. I don't know
how to adapt to it. It's almost managable if you have nobody behind you and
can "waste" enough time taking extra putts (and if strict observance to the
rules isn't critical on the round extra chips and pitches around the green)
so you aren't just standing around too much, but when you've got people on
your tail you get into the state of constant hurry up and wait. No way to
be.
--
Warren Montgomery (wamontgomery [at] att.net)
http://home.att.net/~wamontgomery
""R&B"" <noneofyourbusiness [at] all.com> wrote in message
news:cKidnTA5rvi-SuTZnZ2dnUVZ_vmdnZ2d [at] giganews.com...
> Yesterday I went to play golf. Got out there around 3:50 and the guy told
> me it would be 4:20 before I could tee off. There's a starter at the first
> tee, so I figured I'd just hang out there and if an opening came up before
> 4:20, he'd send me out. Sure enough, when I arrived at the first tee,
> there was a twosome up on the green, nobody in the fairway, and nobody on
> the tee. So he said I could just go and catch up with the twosome, who was
> probably going to be waiting on the 2nd tee, as there were foursomes up
> ahead.
>
> No warm-up. No stretching. No nothing. I just teed off, and off I went.
>
> Hooked me tee shot a bit into a familiar spot. I have been in that spot so
> often, I have given names to all the trees over there. Then I cold
> shanked my second off a hanging lie to a spot about 40 yards to the right
> of the green. Shit. Babied the third a bit and barely dribbled the ball on
> to the fringe. From there, I hit a wonderful pitch to within a foot of the
> hole. Tap in for bogey. Could have been worse. SHOULD have been worse.
> FELT a whole lot worse than a 5.
>
> I caught up with the twosome on the 2nd tee, and joined up. One of them
> said to me, "I hope you're not amazing."
>
> "Oh, I'm amazing, alright. Amazing at what, I'm not sure," I replied.
>
> These guys were terrible. One could barely hit the ball out of his own
> shadow.
>
> I hit a perfect drive down the middle of the fairway. Like a rocket. Yes,
> I was amazing.
>
> It would prove to be one of very few amazing -- or even marginally
> acceptable -- shots I would hit on this day.
>
> I smother-hooked the second, then hit a decent 8-iron on to the par five
> green, about 20 feet behind the hole. Three putt bogey.
>
> Then on the par three third, I tried to work the ball right to left to a
> tucked pin on the left side, which is rarely a good idea on this hole.
> You'd think I'd know that by now, with the bunker left of the green the
> size of Gwinnett County. Of course I pull hooked my tee shot, and
> naturally, it came to rest in an impossible position, half plugged on the
> far edge of the bunker. My only play was to stand outside the bunker and
> lean over (with my butt in the air higher than my head) to reach down to
> the ball, which was almost a full yard below my feet. Not surprisingly, I
> skulled the thing across the green, nearly putting it in the water that
> awaits 25 yards behind the putting surface. A good pitch gave me a chance
> to save bogey, but the putt slid by. Double.
>
> Nothing like a fast start to build confidence.
>
> Another pull hook into the trees on the par four 4th elicited a series of
> expletives from yours truly. My playing companions hit their tee shots.
> One hit a low ground ball that barely missed his own left ankle and found
> the water BEHIND him. The other hit a pop fly that barely cleared the
> water to the left. They quit after that.
>
> I should have.
>
> I never found my ball in the forest to the left, but with my score already
> shot for the day, I just dropped one up there, not really caring that I
> wasn't following the rules. I punched one up under the trees and managed
> to reach the fringe. A good chip left me with a tap-in for...well...for
> whatever number it is I decided to write down.
>
> Caught up with a threesome on the fifth hole who were playing the tips.
> Geez, they hit the ball a mile. They nearly drove the green from back
> there. Holy mackeral. But they didn't invite me to join up. Not yet
> anyway. I hit my usual little draw down the left side, about 100 yards
> short of where they hit their tee shots (and I was playing the blues, not
> the tips). I dug a trench with my 2nd shot, advancing the ball about 30
> yards into a fairway bunker. From there, I managed to get it about
> halfway to the green. This was not my day.
>
> On the 6th, the threesome -- a dad and his two sons -- invited me to join
> them. I managed two more decent shots, but the rest of my shotmaking
> repertoire proved to be consistent with what I'd displayed thus far --
> pretty much awful.
>
> On the 9th hole, after putting two balls in the water off the tee, I
> dropped one and hit my 5th shot around the corner and up to the right side
> of the fairway, leaving me 185 over a ditch to the green. As I was bending
> over to remove some debris from behind my ball, the right lens in my "golf
> glasses" popped out. Great. Better to have this happen on this day, rather
> than right in the middle of a career round. I put my "regular" glasses on,
> which have bifocal lenses -- not what you want to play golf with. I nearly
> whiffed the damn ball, advancing it only about 40 yards. So I take out a
> 7-iron for my 7th shot (or was it my 8th? Oh, who's counting anymore?)
> and catch just enough of the ball to hit a quail-high screamer that barely
> clears the ditch and comes to rest on the bank short of the green. From
> there, I hit a decent enough pitch for my 8th (or 9th, or whatever) shot,
> but just belly-wedged the ball from there, playing hockey with it,
> basically conceding myself a 10...or 11...or something...who the hell
> knows anymore.
>
> The threesome I was with was only going 9, so I was on my own from there.
>
> I thought seriously about leaving at that point, figuring I'd want to get
> those glasses in to Lenscrafters to have them pop the lens back in and
> replace the screw holding the frames together. But my watch told me
> there'd be time after the round, so I ventured off to the 10th tee. From
> there, I dribbled a tee shot about 50 yards from the tee. With no one
> behind me, I went ahead and hit another. I blocked this one into a deep
> forest right of the fairway. One more time. What's life without enough
> golf balls to spray everywhere, anyway? Finally, I managed to power a
> mighty heeled drive about 185 down the left side, which dribbled into a
> decent enough lie in the light rough. Playable enough, I thought, and by
> this day's standards, a keeper for sure. My "second" shot was hit fat,
> easily 6 inches behind the ball, and this 3-wood shot managed to go all of
> about 100 yards, thanks to the hard, fast fairway which, miraculously, it
> found. From there I figured I better lay up short of the water, so I
> punched an iron up there somewhere. I waited and waited and waited for the
> foursome ahead of me to leave the green, and finally hit a beautiful
> 8-iron that arched high and straight in the sky and landed softly like a
> butterfly. Except that it landed softly like a butterfly about 70 yards to
> the right of the green. How do you miss a target 70 yards when you're
> hitting from 140 yards? Get Guinness on the phone.
>
> Hell, I couldn't even SEE the ball as it was on the ground in front of me,
> looking through the reading part of these damn bifocals, let alone hit it.
>
> After holing out on the 10th, I drove to the par three 11th tee, where the
> slowsome up ahead hadn't teed off yet. And despite the fact that there
> was a twosome in front of them, they didn't have the presence of mind to
> wave me through and let me catch up with them. Maybe they saw me playing
> behind them. I guess I can't blame them.
>
> It was at this moment that I did something I don't recall ever doing
> before. I quit mid-round. I had just had enough. The amusement, such as
> it was, provided by getting one of "those" rounds out of my system had
> crossed a line. I was not having fun. Enough, already.
>
> Now, some would say this epiphany came to me much later than it might have
> to others in a similar position who would have had the good sense to call
> it a day much sooner. And to that, I would only say, "yes, you are
> probably correct."
>
> It occurred to me as I was sitting in the air-conditioned comfort of my
> Honda driving home that it was hot as hell out there on the golf course
> this day. So hot, that I had become stupid. Oh, not just stupid is as
> stupid does, but just plain bonehead dumb as a rock. In hindsight, I
> realize that "Atlanta hot" is nothing like the kind of hot I used to play
> in when I lived in Texas. It was around 90 degrees here yesterday (with
> the usual 60% humidy). Not that hot by Dallas standards, that's for sure.
> Heck, to Dallas people, I was playing on what amounted to nothing more
> than a nice Spring day. But my point of reference has changed in the
> nearly 10 years since living in sun-baked Texas. Hell, I used to play
> routinely, as if it was nothing, on 106-degree, 108-degree Summer days and
> never give it a second thought. But it was hot here yesterday at "only" 90
> degrees, and I was playing blind.
>
> I went home, dropped off the clubs, and then, after cooling off a bit,
> drove to the mall to have Lenscrafters repair my glasses. Lenscrafters
> put that lens back in my glasses, and replaced the screw that had come
> loose and finally fallen out, causing the lens to fall out. My golf
> glasses are now good to go again.
>
> However, time will tell if I neglected to have them them check for loose
> screws in my head.
>
> Randy
>
>
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035243 ] |
Sun, 28 May 2006 21:17 |
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On Sun, 28 May 2006 13:00:30 -0400, "R&B" wrote:
> It was at this moment that I did something I don't recall ever doing
> before. I quit mid-round. I had just had enough. The amusement, such as
> it was, provided by getting one of "those" rounds out of my system had
> crossed a line. I was not having fun. Enough, already.
I've had rounds exactly like you describe. I imagine everyone has. You
look down at that stupid little ball, the source of so much misery, and
wonder why you're spending so much time and effort on a past-time that so
regularly pisses you off.
And then as suddenly as they've arrived, the kinks in the swing go away
and you have a good day, and you sit on the clubhouse balcony after the
round and suddenly it's the grandest game ever.
If you're crazy I guess I am too. I love/hate this stupid f$^%ing game.
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035306 ] |
Sun, 28 May 2006 23:47 |
|
In article <huqdna4MOIF-duTZnZ2dnUVZ_sSdnZ2d [at] comcast.com>,
"warren montgomery" <wamontgomery [at] worldnet.att.net> wrote:
> Kind of like the round I just finished. My excuses incuded playing as a
> walking twosome being two plastic shelled turtles who were all over the
> course (but in all fairness not too far behind the turtles in front of
> them), and the 90 degree heat, first day like that in quite some time.
> Waiting on every shot though is what really destroys my game. I don't know
> how to adapt to it. It's almost managable if you have nobody behind you and
> can "waste" enough time taking extra putts (and if strict observance to the
> rules isn't critical on the round extra chips and pitches around the green)
> so you aren't just standing around too much, but when you've got people on
> your tail you get into the state of constant hurry up and wait. No way to
> be.
Although I agree with the "no way to be" sentiment, there *is* a way to
deal with it.
I suspect that most of us (well, me anyway <g>) are thinking about our
next shot practically from the moment we hit our last shot. When it's
backed up as you described, such think is death.
If it's backed up, *don't* think about your next shot. Talk to your
playing partners, shoot the breeze. Think about *anything* except golf.
Only when you get within 45 seconds of being able to play should you
even *begin* the thinking process. If you absolutely must, you can pace
off the yardage, but *nothing* else!
As you see that you're in that window of time turn your mind to your
shot. Look at the lie, look at where you'd like to end up given what's
possible for that lie and distance and select the shot and club you're
going to play. Pull the club, take your practice swings visualizing the
shot you've chosen, and then go.
Too much analysis tends to paralyze us. And under normal circumstances
we don't have enough time (if we're going to play quickly) to agonize
for too long over a shot.
So don't!
>
> --
> Warren Montgomery (wamontgomery [at] att.net)
> http://home.att.net/~wamontgomery
> ""R&B"" <noneofyourbusiness [at] all.com> wrote in message
> news:cKidnTA5rvi-SuTZnZ2dnUVZ_vmdnZ2d [at] giganews.com...
> > Yesterday I went to play golf. Got out there around 3:50 and the guy told
> > me it would be 4:20 before I could tee off. There's a starter at the first
> > tee, so I figured I'd just hang out there and if an opening came up before
> > 4:20, he'd send me out. Sure enough, when I arrived at the first tee,
> > there was a twosome up on the green, nobody in the fairway, and nobody on
> > the tee. So he said I could just go and catch up with the twosome, who was
> > probably going to be waiting on the 2nd tee, as there were foursomes up
> > ahead.
> >
> > No warm-up. No stretching. No nothing. I just teed off, and off I went.
> >
> > Hooked me tee shot a bit into a familiar spot. I have been in that spot so
> > often, I have given names to all the trees over there. Then I cold
> > shanked my second off a hanging lie to a spot about 40 yards to the right
> > of the green. Shit. Babied the third a bit and barely dribbled the ball on
> > to the fringe. From there, I hit a wonderful pitch to within a foot of the
> > hole. Tap in for bogey. Could have been worse. SHOULD have been worse.
> > FELT a whole lot worse than a 5.
> >
> > I caught up with the twosome on the 2nd tee, and joined up. One of them
> > said to me, "I hope you're not amazing."
> >
> > "Oh, I'm amazing, alright. Amazing at what, I'm not sure," I replied.
> >
> > These guys were terrible. One could barely hit the ball out of his own
> > shadow.
> >
> > I hit a perfect drive down the middle of the fairway. Like a rocket. Yes,
> > I was amazing.
> >
> > It would prove to be one of very few amazing -- or even marginally
> > acceptable -- shots I would hit on this day.
> >
> > I smother-hooked the second, then hit a decent 8-iron on to the par five
> > green, about 20 feet behind the hole. Three putt bogey.
> >
> > Then on the par three third, I tried to work the ball right to left to a
> > tucked pin on the left side, which is rarely a good idea on this hole.
> > You'd think I'd know that by now, with the bunker left of the green the
> > size of Gwinnett County. Of course I pull hooked my tee shot, and
> > naturally, it came to rest in an impossible position, half plugged on the
> > far edge of the bunker. My only play was to stand outside the bunker and
> > lean over (with my butt in the air higher than my head) to reach down to
> > the ball, which was almost a full yard below my feet. Not surprisingly, I
> > skulled the thing across the green, nearly putting it in the water that
> > awaits 25 yards behind the putting surface. A good pitch gave me a chance
> > to save bogey, but the putt slid by. Double.
> >
> > Nothing like a fast start to build confidence.
> >
> > Another pull hook into the trees on the par four 4th elicited a series of
> > expletives from yours truly. My playing companions hit their tee shots.
> > One hit a low ground ball that barely missed his own left ankle and found
> > the water BEHIND him. The other hit a pop fly that barely cleared the
> > water to the left. They quit after that.
> >
> > I should have.
> >
> > I never found my ball in the forest to the left, but with my score already
> > shot for the day, I just dropped one up there, not really caring that I
> > wasn't following the rules. I punched one up under the trees and managed
> > to reach the fringe. A good chip left me with a tap-in for...well...for
> > whatever number it is I decided to write down.
> >
> > Caught up with a threesome on the fifth hole who were playing the tips.
> > Geez, they hit the ball a mile. They nearly drove the green from back
> > there. Holy mackeral. But they didn't invite me to join up. Not yet
> > anyway. I hit my usual little draw down the left side, about 100 yards
> > short of where they hit their tee shots (and I was playing the blues, not
> > the tips). I dug a trench with my 2nd shot, advancing the ball about 30
> > yards into a fairway bunker. From there, I managed to get it about
> > halfway to the green. This was not my day.
> >
> > On the 6th, the threesome -- a dad and his two sons -- invited me to join
> > them. I managed two more decent shots, but the rest of my shotmaking
> > repertoire proved to be consistent with what I'd displayed thus far --
> > pretty much awful.
> >
> > On the 9th hole, after putting two balls in the water off the tee, I
> > dropped one and hit my 5th shot around the corner and up to the right side
> > of the fairway, leaving me 185 over a ditch to the green. As I was bending
> > over to remove some debris from behind my ball, the right lens in my "golf
> > glasses" popped out. Great. Better to have this happen on this day, rather
> > than right in the middle of a career round. I put my "regular" glasses on,
> > which have bifocal lenses -- not what you want to play golf with. I nearly
> > whiffed the damn ball, advancing it only about 40 yards. So I take out a
> > 7-iron for my 7th shot (or was it my 8th? Oh, who's counting anymore?)
> > and catch just enough of the ball to hit a quail-high screamer that barely
> > clears the ditch and comes to rest on the bank short of the green. From
> > there, I hit a decent enough pitch for my 8th (or 9th, or whatever) shot,
> > but just belly-wedged the ball from there, playing hockey with it,
> > basically conceding myself a 10...or 11...or something...who the hell
> > knows anymore.
> >
> > The threesome I was with was only going 9, so I was on my own from there.
> >
> > I thought seriously about leaving at that point, figuring I'd want to get
> > those glasses in to Lenscrafters to have them pop the lens back in and
> > replace the screw holding the frames together. But my watch told me
> > there'd be time after the round, so I ventured off to the 10th tee. From
> > there, I dribbled a tee shot about 50 yards from the tee. With no one
> > behind me, I went ahead and hit another. I blocked this one into a deep
> > forest right of the fairway. One more time. What's life without enough
> > golf balls to spray everywhere, anyway? Finally, I managed to power a
> > mighty heeled drive about 185 down the left side, which dribbled into a
> > decent enough lie in the light rough. Playable enough, I thought, and by
> > this day's standards, a keeper for sure. My "second" shot was hit fat,
> > easily 6 inches behind the ball, and this 3-wood shot managed to go all of
> > about 100 yards, thanks to the hard, fast fairway which, miraculously, it
> > found. From there I figured I better lay up short of the water, so I
> > punched an iron up there somewhere. I waited and waited and waited for the
> > foursome ahead of me to leave the green, and finally hit a beautiful
> > 8-iron that arched high and straight in the sky and landed softly like a
> > butterfly. Except that it landed softly like a butterfly about 70 yards to
> > the right of the green. How do you miss a target 70 yards when you're
> > hitting from 140 yards? Get Guinness on the phone.
> >
> > Hell, I couldn't even SEE the ball as it was on the ground in front of me,
> > looking through the reading part of these damn bifocals, let alone hit it.
> >
> > After holing out on the 10th, I drove to the par three 11th tee, where the
> > slowsome up ahead hadn't teed off yet. And despite the fact that there
> > was a twosome in front of them, they didn't have the presence of mind to
> > wave me through and let me catch up with them. Maybe they saw me playing
> > behind them. I guess I can't blame them.
> >
> > It was at this moment that I did something I don't recall ever doing
> > before. I quit mid-round. I had just had enough. The amusement, such as
> > it was, provided by getting one of "those" rounds out of my system had
> > crossed a line. I was not having fun. Enough, already.
> >
> > Now, some would say this epiphany came to me much later than it might have
> > to others in a similar position who would have had the good sense to call
> > it a day much sooner. And to that, I would only say, "yes, you are
> > probably correct."
> >
> > It occurred to me as I was sitting in the air-conditioned comfort of my
> > Honda driving home that it was hot as hell out there on the golf course
> > this day. So hot, that I had become stupid. Oh, not just stupid is as
> > stupid does, but just plain bonehead dumb as a rock. In hindsight, I
> > realize that "Atlanta hot" is nothing like the kind of hot I used to play
> > in when I lived in Texas. It was around 90 degrees here yesterday (with
> > the usual 60% humidy). Not that hot by Dallas standards, that's for sure.
> > Heck, to Dallas people, I was playing on what amounted to nothing more
> > than a nice Spring day. But my point of reference has changed in the
> > nearly 10 years since living in sun-baked Texas. Hell, I used to play
> > routinely, as if it was nothing, on 106-degree, 108-degree Summer days and
> > never give it a second thought. But it was hot here yesterday at "only" 90
> > degrees, and I was playing blind.
> >
> > I went home, dropped off the clubs, and then, after cooling off a bit,
> > drove to the mall to have Lenscrafters repair my glasses. Lenscrafters
> > put that lens back in my glasses, and replaced the screw that had come
> > loose and finally fallen out, causing the lens to fall out. My golf
> > glasses are now good to go again.
> >
> > However, time will tell if I neglected to have them them check for loose
> > screws in my head.
> >
> > Randy
> >
> >
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035349 ] |
Mon, 29 May 2006 04:20 |
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"R&B" wrote:
> Yesterday I went to play golf. Got out there around 3:50 and the guy told
> me it would be 4:20 before I could tee off. There's a starter at the first
> tee, so I figured I'd just hang out there and if an opening came up before
> 4:20, he'd send me out. Sure enough, when I arrived at the first tee,
> there was a twosome up on the green, nobody in the fairway, and nobody on
> the tee. So he said I could just go and catch up with the twosome, who was
> probably going to be waiting on the 2nd tee, as there were foursomes up
> ahead.
>
> No warm-up. No stretching. No nothing. I just teed off, and off I went.
<snip - sorry, there's a lot there :-) >
Well, I can't complain much about my round after reading that one. I can
empathize with the vision issues, but I'm lucky enough to have contacts for
golf, so I've never had anything like what you described. The worst I've
ever had was a contact slicing in half a couple of days before a round and
having to play wearing glasses from a couple of prescriptions before.
I managed to shoot 76 on a par 70 course hitting 13 greens. 38 putts.
Nice. Hell, the one birdie I did make was a 2-putt. And it's been a while
since I've played in wind like that. 10th hole is 530 downwind. Driver,
slapped 6-iron to the middle. 18 is 550 into the wind. Driver, 4-iron,
7-iron. At least 2 clubs of wind - probably more. Gap wedge 140 one hole,
90 the next.
But my favourite part of the day? The dickhead in the group behind me that
was a complete prick to the poor girl that was working by herself in the
pro shop, who then started telling me on the first tee when I could hit.
Not that I asked or anything. The sound in his voice after he told me that
the group ahead was 300 out and I told him I could hit them (it was
straight downwind) was priceless. And then we never saw him again for the
entire round as they eventually fell 2 holes behind us.
Wayne
--
www.nhlfa.com
"There are only two things I can't stand in this world: people who are
intolerant of other peoples' cultures, and the Dutch."
-Nigel Powers
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035409 ] |
Mon, 29 May 2006 17:06 |
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On Sun, 28 May 2006, warren montgomery wrote:
> Kind of like the round I just finished. My excuses incuded playing as a
> walking twosome being two plastic shelled turtles who were all over the
> course (but in all fairness not too far behind the turtles in front of
> them), and the 90 degree heat, first day like that in quite some time.
> Waiting on every shot though is what really destroys my game. I don't know
> how to adapt to it. It's almost managable if you have nobody behind you and
It's important to learn how to adapt as most tournaments are played under
that condition. I avoid it otherwise like the plague. When I am forced
to do it I always think of it as a religious parade, a slow solemn pace.
But like any uncomfortable situation in life the first step is to accept
it and not complain (if there is truly nothing you can do to get out of it).
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035430 ] |
Mon, 29 May 2006 19:54 |
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Wayne <way96ah [at] hotmail.com> wrote in
news:447a5bd0$0$11732$c3e8da3 [at] news.astraweb.com:
>
Totally understand ... played Stevens Park as Cedar Crest had a tourney.
91 degrees, weather just great for a late Friday morn exit from the job.
Shot 39 on the front but the meltdown came on 15, 16, and 17 . Finished
with a 48 on that side. Its too bad when one cannot take advantage of
good weather in Dallas...........
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035451 ] |
Tue, 30 May 2006 00:22 |
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>On the 6th, the threesome -- a dad and his two sons -- invited me to join
>them. I managed two more decent shots, but the rest of my shotmaking
>repertoire proved to be consistent with what I'd displayed thus far --
>pretty much awful.
I hate that fuckin hole.
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035456 ] |
Tue, 30 May 2006 00:44 |
|
""R&B"" <noneofyourbusiness [at] all.com> wrote in message
news:cKidnTA5rvi-SuTZnZ2dnUVZ_vmdnZ2d [at] giganews.com...
> Yesterday I went to play golf. Got out there around 3:50 and the guy told
me
> it would be 4:20 before I could tee off. There's a starter at the first
tee,
> so I figured I'd just hang out there and if an opening came up before
4:20,
> he'd send me out. Sure enough, when I arrived at the first tee, there was
a
> twosome up on the green, nobody in the fairway, and nobody on the tee. So
he
> said I could just go and catch up with the twosome, who was probably going
> to be waiting on the 2nd tee, as there were foursomes up ahead.
>
> No warm-up. No stretching. No nothing. I just teed off, and off I went.
>
> Hooked me tee shot a bit into a familiar spot. I have been in that spot so
> often, I have given names to all the trees over there. Then I cold
shanked
> my second off a hanging lie to a spot about 40 yards to the right of the
> green. Shit. Babied the third a bit and barely dribbled the ball on to the
> fringe. From there, I hit a wonderful pitch to within a foot of the hole.
> Tap in for bogey. Could have been worse. SHOULD have been worse. FELT a
> whole lot worse than a 5.
>
> I caught up with the twosome on the 2nd tee, and joined up. One of them
said
> to me, "I hope you're not amazing."
>
> "Oh, I'm amazing, alright. Amazing at what, I'm not sure," I replied.
>
> These guys were terrible. One could barely hit the ball out of his own
> shadow.
>
> I hit a perfect drive down the middle of the fairway. Like a rocket. Yes,
I
> was amazing.
>
> It would prove to be one of very few amazing -- or even marginally
> acceptable -- shots I would hit on this day.
>
> I smother-hooked the second, then hit a decent 8-iron on to the par five
> green, about 20 feet behind the hole. Three putt bogey.
>
> Then on the par three third, I tried to work the ball right to left to a
> tucked pin on the left side, which is rarely a good idea on this hole.
You'd
> think I'd know that by now, with the bunker left of the green the size of
> Gwinnett County. Of course I pull hooked my tee shot, and naturally, it
came
> to rest in an impossible position, half plugged on the far edge of the
> bunker. My only play was to stand outside the bunker and lean over (with
my
> butt in the air higher than my head) to reach down to the ball, which was
> almost a full yard below my feet. Not surprisingly, I skulled the thing
> across the green, nearly putting it in the water that awaits 25 yards
behind
> the putting surface. A good pitch gave me a chance to save bogey, but the
> putt slid by. Double.
>
> Nothing like a fast start to build confidence.
>
> Another pull hook into the trees on the par four 4th elicited a series of
> expletives from yours truly. My playing companions hit their tee shots.
One
> hit a low ground ball that barely missed his own left ankle and found the
> water BEHIND him. The other hit a pop fly that barely cleared the water to
> the left. They quit after that.
>
> I should have.
>
> I never found my ball in the forest to the left, but with my score already
> shot for the day, I just dropped one up there, not really caring that I
> wasn't following the rules. I punched one up under the trees and managed
to
> reach the fringe. A good chip left me with a tap-in for...well...for
> whatever number it is I decided to write down.
>
> Caught up with a threesome on the fifth hole who were playing the tips.
> Geez, they hit the ball a mile. They nearly drove the green from back
there.
> Holy mackeral. But they didn't invite me to join up. Not yet anyway. I
hit
> my usual little draw down the left side, about 100 yards short of where
they
> hit their tee shots (and I was playing the blues, not the tips). I dug a
> trench with my 2nd shot, advancing the ball about 30 yards into a fairway
> bunker. From there, I managed to get it about halfway to the green. This
> was not my day.
>
> On the 6th, the threesome -- a dad and his two sons -- invited me to join
> them. I managed two more decent shots, but the rest of my shotmaking
> repertoire proved to be consistent with what I'd displayed thus far --
> pretty much awful.
>
> On the 9th hole, after putting two balls in the water off the tee, I
dropped
> one and hit my 5th shot around the corner and up to the right side of the
> fairway, leaving me 185 over a ditch to the green. As I was bending over
to
> remove some debris from behind my ball, the right lens in my "golf
glasses"
> popped out. Great. Better to have this happen on this day, rather than
right
> in the middle of a career round. I put my "regular" glasses on, which have
> bifocal lenses -- not what you want to play golf with. I nearly whiffed
the
> damn ball, advancing it only about 40 yards. So I take out a 7-iron for my
> 7th shot (or was it my 8th? Oh, who's counting anymore?) and catch just
> enough of the ball to hit a quail-high screamer that barely clears the
ditch
> and comes to rest on the bank short of the green. From there, I hit a
decent
> enough pitch for my 8th (or 9th, or whatever) shot, but just belly-wedged
> the ball from there, playing hockey with it, basically conceding myself a
> 10...or 11...or something...who the hell knows anymore.
>
> The threesome I was with was only going 9, so I was on my own from there.
>
> I thought seriously about leaving at that point, figuring I'd want to get
> those glasses in to Lenscrafters to have them pop the lens back in and
> replace the screw holding the frames together. But my watch told me
there'd
> be time after the round, so I ventured off to the 10th tee. From there, I
> dribbled a tee shot about 50 yards from the tee. With no one behind me, I
> went ahead and hit another. I blocked this one into a deep forest right of
> the fairway. One more time. What's life without enough golf balls to
spray
> everywhere, anyway? Finally, I managed to power a mighty heeled drive
about
> 185 down the left side, which dribbled into a decent enough lie in the
light
> rough. Playable enough, I thought, and by this day's standards, a keeper
for
> sure. My "second" shot was hit fat, easily 6 inches behind the ball, and
> this 3-wood shot managed to go all of about 100 yards, thanks to the hard,
> fast fairway which, miraculously, it found. From there I figured I better
> lay up short of the water, so I punched an iron up there somewhere. I
waited
> and waited and waited for the foursome ahead of me to leave the green, and
> finally hit a beautiful 8-iron that arched high and straight in the sky
and
> landed softly like a butterfly. Except that it landed softly like a
> butterfly about 70 yards to the right of the green. How do you miss a
> target 70 yards when you're hitting from 140 yards? Get Guinness on the
> phone.
>
> Hell, I couldn't even SEE the ball as it was on the ground in front of me,
> looking through the reading part of these damn bifocals, let alone hit it.
>
> After holing out on the 10th, I drove to the par three 11th tee, where the
> slowsome up ahead hadn't teed off yet. And despite the fact that there
was
> a twosome in front of them, they didn't have the presence of mind to wave
me
> through and let me catch up with them. Maybe they saw me playing behind
> them. I guess I can't blame them.
>
> It was at this moment that I did something I don't recall ever doing
before.
> I quit mid-round. I had just had enough. The amusement, such as it was,
> provided by getting one of "those" rounds out of my system had crossed a
> line. I was not having fun. Enough, already.
>
> Now, some would say this epiphany came to me much later than it might have
> to others in a similar position who would have had the good sense to call
it
> a day much sooner. And to that, I would only say, "yes, you are probably
> correct."
>
> It occurred to me as I was sitting in the air-conditioned comfort of my
> Honda driving home that it was hot as hell out there on the golf course
this
> day. So hot, that I had become stupid. Oh, not just stupid is as stupid
> does, but just plain bonehead dumb as a rock. In hindsight, I realize that
> "Atlanta hot" is nothing like the kind of hot I used to play in when I
lived
> in Texas. It was around 90 degrees here yesterday (with the usual 60%
> humidy). Not that hot by Dallas standards, that's for sure. Heck, to
Dallas
> people, I was playing on what amounted to nothing more than a nice Spring
> day. But my point of reference has changed in the nearly 10 years since
> living in sun-baked Texas. Hell, I used to play routinely, as if it was
> nothing, on 106-degree, 108-degree Summer days and never give it a second
> thought. But it was hot here yesterday at "only" 90 degrees, and I was
> playing blind.
>
> I went home, dropped off the clubs, and then, after cooling off a bit,
drove
> to the mall to have Lenscrafters repair my glasses. Lenscrafters put that
> lens back in my glasses, and replaced the screw that had come loose and
> finally fallen out, causing the lens to fall out. My golf glasses are now
> good to go again.
>
> However, time will tell if I neglected to have them them check for loose
> screws in my head.
>
> Randy
Played a new course today, new for me, called Country Lane ..oh and it's on
Country Lane Road (Whitby, Ontario). $33 but if I waited and joined in with
the Whitby Mens Golf League at 9am it would only be $27. Rode a cart with
this same hip condition, accompanied by Bernie who ran the League. His first
tee shot went about 20 yards.. "oh no" I thought, duffers bring me down to
their
level somehow. First nine was not too good but made up for it on the back
nine
shooting one over for a 74 (par 64 course). Delightful course -- simple
layout
-- water on six holes -- longest hole 545 yards, 4962 in all. Apparently the
course
was sold two years ago for $12M but won't be built on for another three
years, or
until Taunton Road becomes a 'super highway' - or so I'm told. Per TGM
'hitting'
approach shots and 'swinging' off the tee. Wow that drag loading is good (so
if
you want to see me in drag.. no just kiddin') for swinging. Used 'basic
stroke'
for putting too.. flat left wrist, right forearm extensor action.. and
didn't 'whiff'
one stroke.. deadly from six feet in. Hot day, 39c with humidity. For a long
time
now I've been using Dalecki's advice "..drink water until you start
peeing.."
keeping myself well hydrated; no that's not a pun, there are no wells around
here.
Dinner's ready..
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035483 ] |
Tue, 30 May 2006 02:47 |
|
"annika1980" <annika1980 [at] aol.com> wrote in message
news:1148941332.213568.228570 [at] y43g2000cwc.googlegroups.com...
> >On the 6th, the threesome -- a dad and his two sons -- invited me to join
>>them. I managed two more decent shots, but the rest of my shotmaking
>>repertoire proved to be consistent with what I'd displayed thus far --
>>pretty much awful.
>
> I hate that fuckin hole.
I birdied it today. A guy I was playing with nearly aced it, but missed his
birdie putt.
The greens at Trophy Club are in perfectly horrible shape right now. Still
sandy from the recent aeration (which seems like it was done a month ago by
now), and the grass is crunchy and bumpy as I've never seen it there before.
The ball was hoppin' all over the place today. Somehow, I still managed to
putt decently enough. But my iron play is just terrible right now.
Randy
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| Re: I don't recall ever doing this before [message #1035639 ] |
Wed, 31 May 2006 02:27 |
|
On Sun, 28 May 2006 13:00:30 -0400, "\"R&B\""
<noneofyourbusiness [at] all.com> wrote:
>
>It was at this moment that I did something I don't recall ever doing before.
>I quit mid-round. I had just had enough. The amusement, such as it was,
>provided by getting one of "those" rounds out of my system had crossed a
>line. I was not having fun. Enough, already.
>
Well, I've picked up the ball on a hole before, but never quit
mid-round. I've certainly felt like it a few times.
Tom
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