On the way there we decide to get some food from "a deli" and without getting into all the reasons I hate that deli I'll just say it took 45 minutes to get a hoagie. Then it was off to the course early to hit a bucket of balls and get some practice green time in. Yes, even after waiting 45 minutes for our sandwiches we got there early enough for all the warm-up activities. I wasn't the only one excited about today. The bucket of balls went as expected. A few over here, a few over there. And how about that, a few straight. I wasn't concerned. The putting practice went very well. I have a good feel for my putter and was rolling them right up where I wanted. Let's get to the action.
After the harder than needed explanation on how the two-for-one coupon worked, we were on our way. We had a competitive foursome on the first tee and it was shaping up to be a great day for all. "I'll go first guys." "You know what, I'll even hit driver. I can't see how this would be a bad idea." What upsets me is that I know better. Driver should never come out of my bag until at least the 5th or 6th hole. What was I thinking? Anyway, I put the tee in the ground and placed my Nike MOJO ball on top with optimism. I stepped back and started my routine. I start behind the ball to visualize the shot, take a practice swing, visualize again, then I square up and swing. It all starts out the way I pictured it the night before. I visualize a gorgeous shot, starting out a little right of the fairway and curving slightly back towards the center of the short stuff. I step up and think, "here it goes, just like you've been practicing in the living room for the past 4 months."
The backswing is as smooth as the second hand of a Rolex watch. I reach the peak and prepare to send this ball right to the middle of the fairway. *PING* NOOOO! Come back! Shit! That wasn't what I had pictured a few seconds ago. A wicked slice starting at the right side of the fairway and landing about 25 feet in the rough on the left side. Oh yea, there was some serious action on that ball. I think I'll be able to find it and I'll just have to make a great second shot. I'll try not to get too worked up over it, it's early. So after some careful combing of the grass I find my ball, just on the wrong side of a wooden fence along the road. It's no big deal; I'll take my drop and make the best of it.
So I drop 2 and prepare to hit 3 towards the green. The same routine behind the ball, and I step up to try and salvage hole 1. My second swing starts out just as smooth as the first. The outcome is a little different however. The ball doesn't slice left, it just starts out left and rockets down rough about 35 yards short of the green. Perfect! I wish there was a sarcastic font so you could understand how not perfect that shot was.
So I pull out my sand wedge. "Nice and smooth, keep your head down, make good contact." SHIT! Thinned it! It landed on the green, but it was coming in so hot it skipped right off and settled about 10 yards past the hole in the thick stuff. I manage to get it on the green in 5 with a reasonable 24 footer for double bogey. Nope, it's just not my hole. I end up with a 7, a triple bogey to start off my day, my season, the rest of my life. A frustration runs through my veins like Kenyon's in a marathon. I try to calm myself down before the second hole. Woooosssaaaaaaa, yea that shit doesn't work. Gooossssssfrrraaaabaaaaaaa, nope that doesn't help either. How about a beer? Ahhhhh, that's better.
So it's on to the second hole and a chance at redemption. I don't want to get into a hole by hole recollection of my day but I'll tell you it started with two 7's and more beer. I ended up finishing the front nine with a 53, which I was okay with for the first 9. It was a little off my goal pace, but it was under my acceptable pace. So let's stay on track and try to shave a couple strokes off the back 9.
Every now and then you hit that perfect shot, the one that keeps you coming back. Well I guess today wasn't every now and then. Don't get me wrong, I hit some good shots. After I put my driver to bed for the day and hit my 3 wood, the B-52 Bomber, off the tee I was playing from the fairway more times than not. Never that perfect one though. You know the hit I'm talking about. One of those shots you watch in awe the whole way and think to yourself, if I could do that every time I'd be getting paid for this. So like I said, I didn't hit one of those shots today. The back nine was not as generous as the front was. And if you recall, the front wasn't that generous at all. So the beers were flowing like the mighty Mississippi.
To sum things up, I shot a 108. I didn't keep the scorecard, if that was your question. However, a wise man once told me, "A bad day on the golf course is better than a good day at work." Ain't that the truth?!
We all went out for a little post-round grub and you guessed it, we had more two-for-one coupons. So as the last gulp of beer went down I started to recap the day. Slice, thin, flub, chunk, divot. These were all words that dominated the recount of the round, but dammit it was good to be out there swinging the sticks. Since I set the bar so low, or high, depending on how you look at it, I have nothing but optimism for my next outing. All I need to do is make sure I have more coupons; it gets pretty expensive to golf in Virginia. I might need to give Hand-jobs for Ham Sandwiches, and then open a Ham Sandwich stand. Maybe I should wear my golf glove.
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