gmcneill
05-18-2012, 08:55 AM
I haven't picked up a club since March. At just after 700 pm yesterday evening, I decided to head over to the Turtle Mound putting green. As I passed by the Sandhill starter area, I noticed that no one was on any of the tee boxes. I hit the brakes, pulled a u-turn, and rolled my cart up even with the black tees in a matter of seconds.
The Not Good:
As I walked to the tee box I saw a twosome coming off of the green. Great! An extra moment or two to get a couple of warm up swings in! As they *started getting into their cart, I dropped a ball and took what I intended to be another warm up swing waggle. *
I misjudged my distance from the ball. Consequently, I *accidently launched a dead pull rocket that headed directly at the twosome. "FORE!!", I screamed as I watched my ill-fated waggle ball blow past the rear of their cart on its way towards the brush and the fence line along BV Blvd. *
The Worse:
After offering up least three sincere but sheepish apologies to the unintentionally targeted twosome, *I drop another ball. No way I'm driving down towards that twosome! Besides, there's no one behind me, and I'm not keeping score because I know my game is off from two months of inactivity. But I'm still a bit rattled from nearly hitting someone, I'm not warmed up, and I am overly protective of my knee, which was the receiving end of an arthroscopic procedure, the reason for the break in activity.
I rush the swing, the club turns in my hands, and I toe ball number two on a screamer straight sideways.
Surprisingly, the ball didn't go as far right as I expected that it should've based on the velocity with which it had headed on it's misdirected destination. In fact, ball number two ended up going forward; however, I would have much preferred that it continued on it's port sided trajectory.
(Note to readers: do any of you have any idea what the cost of a tempered glass windshield on an EZ Go cart with only 12 hours of drive time might be? No? Well then, no worries. *I'll find out that answer soon enough.)
The It Could Be Worse:
It took me a while to pick up shards, chunks, and slivers of glass from the seats and floor mat of my cart (I think that I cleaned all of the glass from the cart path and grass). On the plus side, the delay opened up some distance between me and my target twosome. So much for keeping pace!
I managed to complete Holes 1, 2, and 3 w/out injury to others or myself. I was pleased that I caused no further damage to property.
As I was about to tee off on Hole 4, I heard a loud crash and commotion of some kind behind me. I looked back just in time to see a large wooden bookcase bouncing westbound on 466-A, splintering itself to pieces as it attempted to catch up with the bed of the truck from which it fell.
The Pretty Good
The round continued into the increasing gloam of the late evening. I negotiate my way through Holes 4, 5, 6, and 7 in a mix of pars and bogies, with one 3 putt double bogey tossed in, just because I could.
I arrived at the 8th in the fast fading dimness of dusk. I had caught up with my first hole waggle ball targets a few holes previous, so while I waited for them to clear the green I took stock of my round. Only one more lost ball after first tee shot, and my knee was holding up well, with not even a twinge or a tweak.
All things considered, I was no worse for wear, with the exception of the stress from continuiusly wondering how costly my "stupid fee" will be.
In my world, a "stupid fee" is the cost to repair/replace an item that is broken as a consequence of a stupid act or behavior. A stupid fee is also the *inquantifiable value of time spent dealing with the impact, inconveniences, or impositions relating to or rectifying a stupid act or behavior.
The green cleared, and the hole became mine. I lift my 9 iron- the same club with which I started the round- from it's designated compartment, drop my ball, and then stroked it pure.
It was the only swing that I needed.
The ball ended it's soaring, majestic flight towards the pin with a one bounce landing, taxiing itself along the green. As the ball rolled into the hole, I shook my head and laughed to myself. It was at that moment that I realized that the golfing gods are actually soulless, heartless gremlins. For their own selfish amusement, they routinely torment average golfer schmoes like me.
They grant me the serendipitous opportunity to play a round that included two first ever-in-my-lifetime shots. But they have make the experience a roller coaster ride between the extremes of complete ineptitude and perfection. But that wasn't entertainment enough for them! Oh, no! They were compelled to add the cruel irony that I used the same club to perform both shots. And worse, they allow the round to end on a single sublime stroke, thus ensuring my return to a course, thus guaranteeing them another on-going source of amusement.
Their cold and callous actions are made worse by the fact that they are out there, somewhere, delighting themselves with extra deliciously satisfying laughter because they know that I know that they have burned that round deep into my forever memory.
I hate them...dearly.
The Not Good:
As I walked to the tee box I saw a twosome coming off of the green. Great! An extra moment or two to get a couple of warm up swings in! As they *started getting into their cart, I dropped a ball and took what I intended to be another warm up swing waggle. *
I misjudged my distance from the ball. Consequently, I *accidently launched a dead pull rocket that headed directly at the twosome. "FORE!!", I screamed as I watched my ill-fated waggle ball blow past the rear of their cart on its way towards the brush and the fence line along BV Blvd. *
The Worse:
After offering up least three sincere but sheepish apologies to the unintentionally targeted twosome, *I drop another ball. No way I'm driving down towards that twosome! Besides, there's no one behind me, and I'm not keeping score because I know my game is off from two months of inactivity. But I'm still a bit rattled from nearly hitting someone, I'm not warmed up, and I am overly protective of my knee, which was the receiving end of an arthroscopic procedure, the reason for the break in activity.
I rush the swing, the club turns in my hands, and I toe ball number two on a screamer straight sideways.
Surprisingly, the ball didn't go as far right as I expected that it should've based on the velocity with which it had headed on it's misdirected destination. In fact, ball number two ended up going forward; however, I would have much preferred that it continued on it's port sided trajectory.
(Note to readers: do any of you have any idea what the cost of a tempered glass windshield on an EZ Go cart with only 12 hours of drive time might be? No? Well then, no worries. *I'll find out that answer soon enough.)
The It Could Be Worse:
It took me a while to pick up shards, chunks, and slivers of glass from the seats and floor mat of my cart (I think that I cleaned all of the glass from the cart path and grass). On the plus side, the delay opened up some distance between me and my target twosome. So much for keeping pace!
I managed to complete Holes 1, 2, and 3 w/out injury to others or myself. I was pleased that I caused no further damage to property.
As I was about to tee off on Hole 4, I heard a loud crash and commotion of some kind behind me. I looked back just in time to see a large wooden bookcase bouncing westbound on 466-A, splintering itself to pieces as it attempted to catch up with the bed of the truck from which it fell.
The Pretty Good
The round continued into the increasing gloam of the late evening. I negotiate my way through Holes 4, 5, 6, and 7 in a mix of pars and bogies, with one 3 putt double bogey tossed in, just because I could.
I arrived at the 8th in the fast fading dimness of dusk. I had caught up with my first hole waggle ball targets a few holes previous, so while I waited for them to clear the green I took stock of my round. Only one more lost ball after first tee shot, and my knee was holding up well, with not even a twinge or a tweak.
All things considered, I was no worse for wear, with the exception of the stress from continuiusly wondering how costly my "stupid fee" will be.
In my world, a "stupid fee" is the cost to repair/replace an item that is broken as a consequence of a stupid act or behavior. A stupid fee is also the *inquantifiable value of time spent dealing with the impact, inconveniences, or impositions relating to or rectifying a stupid act or behavior.
The green cleared, and the hole became mine. I lift my 9 iron- the same club with which I started the round- from it's designated compartment, drop my ball, and then stroked it pure.
It was the only swing that I needed.
The ball ended it's soaring, majestic flight towards the pin with a one bounce landing, taxiing itself along the green. As the ball rolled into the hole, I shook my head and laughed to myself. It was at that moment that I realized that the golfing gods are actually soulless, heartless gremlins. For their own selfish amusement, they routinely torment average golfer schmoes like me.
They grant me the serendipitous opportunity to play a round that included two first ever-in-my-lifetime shots. But they have make the experience a roller coaster ride between the extremes of complete ineptitude and perfection. But that wasn't entertainment enough for them! Oh, no! They were compelled to add the cruel irony that I used the same club to perform both shots. And worse, they allow the round to end on a single sublime stroke, thus ensuring my return to a course, thus guaranteeing them another on-going source of amusement.
Their cold and callous actions are made worse by the fact that they are out there, somewhere, delighting themselves with extra deliciously satisfying laughter because they know that I know that they have burned that round deep into my forever memory.
I hate them...dearly.