Two Golf Stories


School has been killing me. For the last few months, this week has been my light at the middle of the tunnel. This week is Spring Break. This week, despite MTV’s best efforts, does not involve a beach in Mexico or a V-Jay. It simply means I only work part-time for a week, and I get my afternoons free to play golf. I have two stories I wanted to share from the last few days.

First:

I was putting on the practice green after my round the other day and this guy and his 2 or 3 year old were putting. The guy was practicing, and the kid had those plastic clubs and was knocking a whiffle golf ball around. Every five or ten minutes the kid would yell something when he knocked it into the hole.

After 30 minutes or so the dad says, “Are you ready to go home?”

To which the exasperated kid huffed, “I’m just playing golf dad.”

I looked at the dad and said, “Best. Answer. Ever.”

The dad just beamed with pride.

I am ordering sets of the plastic clubs today for every friend of mine with kids.

Second:

During one of my rounds a few days ago, I was playing as a single and moving quickly. As I approached the eighth tee, nine high school kids walked out of the trees. I was playing a municipal course near my house and there is an adjacent high school. I imagine they were taking some kind of short-cut, or were off in the woods doing what kids do who hide in the woods on a school day. Either way, I didn’t think too much of it.

Then it dawned on me; I was alone at the furthest point from the clubhouse. I am not a small guy, but nine 16-18 year old boys could most certainly kick my ass. In fact, because I am pretty tall, I have not been in too many fights. I have never been picked on, nor am I all that aggressive. Basically, my physical stature has kept me from trouble all my life and so I am sure if I did have to fight, I would undoubtedly lose.

All of that was racing through my mind while I climbed to the tee. I stood over the ball facing a long par four dog-leg left with OB along the left side. The hole was intimidating enough without trying to judge the pack of hoodlums from the corner of my eye.

Then I smoked it. It might have been the purest drive I have hit in a few months. It was a hissing, high, power fade, down the left side that flew the dog-leg and rolled to the right hand side of the fairway. I had an 8i left to a hole I hit 5w the day before.

As I watched my ball, I heard one of the crowd say, “Daaammmnnn, he stroked it.”

Now that was fun.

Tax Returns = Golf Toys

The Federal Government says payments made toward tuition are deductible.

Who am I to argue?

So, although I work almost full-time, once you subtract what I pay to go to school full-time my adjusted gross income ends up equaling a pack of Skittles and a Mountain Dew. To make a long story longer, I got a fat return this year.

I was feeling a little flush, so I decided to treat myself to something I have wanted since I first saw one more than a year ago. I went to the store and bought a Sun Mountain Speed Cart. I am far too impatient for things like EBay and sales, so I paid full price, and I don’t feel bad at all. It is beautiful.

Like a kid on Christmas morning, I went home to clean my clubs, reorganize my bag, and put the thing together in my living room. In fact, I am typing this at work, looking outside and contemplating excuses to clock out and find a golf course to push my new cart around.

Is that wrong?

If any of you out there have one already and want to comment on how great they are; feel free to do so. I already know, but I love reading it.

Alright here goes…

I am wilting under the strain. It is not entirely my fault; after all, Law school, Work, and Not Much Else, would be the title if my life was a book. Trying to find time to work on my game is difficult. Trying to find time to write for the Fine Chammy is near impossible. The only thing working in my favor is that both golf and writing are therapeutic. My perverse mind has convinced itself of their healing powers over my overstressed, overtired body. So here I am writing about golf, a game I cannot afford the time or money to play.

“Boo hoo,” you say?

Well, I only told you that to gain a touch of sympathy before I revealed something about myself. So really, here goes:

I am a Tiger Woods fan. I am more interested in watching golf when Tiger plays. I enjoy watching Tiger play in a playoff as much as I enjoy watching him lap a field. I cannot help it. I think it is awful, and I am somewhat ashamed of myself. Regardless, it does not keep me from watching him play.

Purists cannot stand that Friday coverage will show every shot Tiger takes at the expense of other players in the field, sometimes even the leaders. Not me. I love it. I would rather watch Tiger hit from an impossible lie while he is struggling than watch a guy who cannot possibly be there Sunday shoot a 63 on Thursday or Friday.

None of that makes me unusual. Most ‘golf fans’ out there feel the same way. That is why Friday coverage will show Tiger’s round at other players' expense in the first place. Just because it is usual, does not change the fact that it is polarizing. I read the columns and some of the other golf blogs out there, and I can tell that Undaunted Duffer is rolling his eyes. I might even get lifted from his links.

Despite the injury to my reputation as a ‘serious golf fan’ I have come clean. I love watching golf, but I really love watching Tiger. Anyway, he is three under with four or five to play in his first event of the year. You can bet TiVo is capturing all of it for me.

Looking for #14…

I carry 13 clubs. I am currently looking for number 14.

Unfortunately, I live in Seattle. Thanks to the recent playoff run of the hometown Seahawks, our near record setting weather has become a national story. In case you had not heard, it rained for 27 straight days. There was one day of reprieve this weekend before it started raining again.

I’m not complaining (actually, that is exactly what I am doing). I have played quite a bit of golf over the last 27 days. I have raingear, and I don’t mind getting a little wet. Actually, the temperatures have been decidedly mild over the month long stretch. 50 degrees can be down-right balmy when you are constructing an arc.

What does the weather have to do with the number of clubs in my bag?

Good question. The answer is everything. Before the weather, I had to buy new golf clubs. Then I had to replace those. Eventually, I ended up with stiffer shafts and a different mix of lofts and lies than I had had previously. Playing frequently has helped me learn to hit everything, but because of the weather, I have no idea what my real distances are. I am pretty comfortable with a 7i or 6i, but for the life of me, could not even guess the difference between my 3i and 5w.

How can I justify spending money I don’t have for a golf club I might not need? Well, the real problem is that I already justified the expense; I just want the satisfaction of doing it. I want the adrenaline that buyer’s remorse brings. I want to go to the range and fight the urge to hit a new golf club over and over and over. Material satisfaction is the light at the end of my rainbow. If only it would stop raining…

The Greatest Game Ever Played

I thought that with winter lingering around most of the country/hemisphere it might be a good time to review golf books. Ludicrous as it may sound, golf books were popular items under the tree for me this year. Mark Frost’s, The Greatest Game Ever Played, found its way from the tree to my carry-on bag during my return trip. A layover and 498 pages later, and it made its way to being among my favorite books.

The book is primarily about the 1913 U.S. Open and its players. Harry Vardon and Francis Ouimet are the two major characters, and Frost guides the reader through their respective careers and personal lives up to their historic meeting at Brookline. In doing so, Frost chronicles what he believes were the major events that gave birth to “modern golf.” Along the way readers are introduced to numerous personalities highlighted by the likes of Walter Hagan and Ted Ray.

Frost is an excellent storyteller. His focus throughout the book is on its characters and his ability to emotionally attach the reader to them is remarkable. The book would be enjoyable to a person with no concept of the Open or the game of golf. Frost, however, is certainly a golfer. His book, although fit for a casual reader, is riveting to anyone who plays the game.

As a golfer, reading this books lets you feel as if you were caddying or keeping score for these men. It attempts to revisit the thoughts created in a golfer by the pressure of an Open. Beyond that, it takes you off the course and into the characters’ family lives, gives insight into their professional concerns, and helps frame an understanding of the challenges they faced in forging the basis for professional golf in America. Frost tone is clear. The men and events surrounding the 1913 U.S. Open did more for Tiger Woods and the modern PGA than most realize.

Although his tone can be sanctimonious and sometimes smacks of “the good old days,” the author has a genuine appreciation for the game and its well-being both then and now. The Greatest Game Ever Played is a title that not only references a particular Open, it is a title that describes the game of golf.

A Quick Shout Out

So I was watching Playing Lessons from the Pros, on the Golf Channel yesterday and came across Gary McCord’s episode filmed in Arizona. Overall, the show offered very little in lessons, but McCord was pretty amusing. Regardless, I’m not writing about the show really.

I’m writing to voice my approval of the cart girl featured in a bit where McCord is boozing while joking about hydrating. I don’t remember the course or her name, but if any Golf Channel people are out there: I want to learn a little more about hydration in the dessert. Seriously, how many hours of infomercials can we watch? Does anyone need to see the Big Break 47 times a week? Would it be too much to ask for a show that lifted notable cart girls up from obscurity? Make it an elimination game show and the winner hosts a half hour spot on the ‘Inside Approach.’ I don’t care.

Just my two cents.

Four Balls and an Empty Bag

My theory on winter golf is this: The winter is there to allow you to improve. I liken it to the off-season in the NBA. Remember how Michael Jordan came back with a jumper in 1991? I am looking to come back to golf in 2006 with added dimensions to my game.

That is what I tell myself when my tee shot hits the green, bounces 30 feet in the air, and finally stops 30 yards later. As much as I like the mild climate of the great North West; it is not Los Angeles, and frost is finally becoming a big problem. Temporary greens and rock-hard tee boxes are getting into my way. Judging chips and pitches has become impossible on the frozen tundra, and my only recourse has been to refocus myself on “off-season improvement.”

Ball flight has been a major focus of mine lately. On the course, I am constantly trying to produce different flights. Some of them are appropriate for the circumstances, and some of them are just for the practice. Regardless, I stopped carrying a card, so I can allow myself to practice. Practicing on the golf course is liberating. I had always been of the school of thought that practice was done at the range, and the course was for playing. Well, winter golf has doubled my practice time and I hope it will help my game during my playing time come this spring.

The reason I’m writing is to share a practice drill I have started at the range based on my limited success “working the ball” on the course. As recently as 4 months ago, I would have told you I could hit draws and fades on the range, but couldn’t reliably carry it onto the course. I would have been telling you the truth, or at least, I would have thought so. Then I found myself struggling to do it on the course and decided to really test how well I could do it at the range. Everyone always says routines and goals are important when practicing, so I cooked this one up to give me a true indication of my progress.

I place a bucket of balls down next to me without pouring them into the tray. I pull 4 balls out and place them on the mat. With my PW, I try to hit a high straight shot, a lower punch shot, a fade, and a draw. If I am successful, I put the club back into my bag. If I don’t pull it off, I put the club against the rail, and move to my 9i. I will do this with every club up to a 4i. Whatever clubs are still against the rail get a second shot as I start over: rinse-repeat. I have yet to get every club back into my bag before finishing a bucket, but I am making progress.