AKA, one duffer’s quest to lose golf balls…
Ironically, perhaps, the idea for this column was borne of a truly horrific nine-hole jaunt at the local muni. I say “jaunt” as calling it a round would be an insult to the game. Even funnier (or sadder depending on your approach) was the fact this was the next round, err jaunt after hitting a personal milestone of using just one ball for 18 holes. So, filled with the confidence of the previous round I took my frequent lunch hour, which is code for “I’m playing hooky for about 90 minutes” and headed off to the back nine. After all I just conquered this place with one dang ball, right?
Where to begin…
Ah, ha! So that’s where they’re hiding…
Rushed golf is always problematic for me. One of many reasons I love the game is that it doesn’t reward anger or pace beyond one’s abilities. I say this as I’ve never been a patient person yet on the course I’m able to exhale and relax in ways not possible in other facets of life. Many a playing partner has said “dude, you’re so chill on the course” which is funny as inside I’m cursing myself for a bad shot. But saying it out loud gives it to the universe and the golf gods might hear, mocking me with a missed three-footer. So when that thinned approach shot skimmed the green on hole #11 and rolled into oblivion (aka, the swamp that can be DC) part of me was almost glad I’d lost a ball and gotten it out of the way. But that was the first of many, it was almost like I was on a quest to lose balls in the goofiest ways possible. The course is surrounded by a fence and a faded (okay more like sliced) tee shot just….almost…crap, hit a tree and took off over it, my beloved yellow SuperSoft visible as it hopped across the bike path into the weeds. But for a foot it would have been safe and playable. Okay, shake it off, onward! The next hole was going pretty well. Decent drive, beautiful second shot, 80 yards out. But with the winter sun going down quickly my approach shot disappeared off the toe into the blinding rays. No time to waste, drop and – of COURSE – hit it to a couple of feet from the pin. Ah, why is my B player such a jerk? But there was a silver lining dear reader. Actually a yellow lining as walking to the next tee box why did my weary eyes spy? The ball I’d sent into the sun! Waiting there as if to say “Hey, Switzman, I still love you. See, I’ve been waiting right here”. Damn thing was on the tee box like I’d placed it there almost between the markers.
The next hole is a par three I’ve always liked, looks pretty straightforward but the green rolls off just enough to where too much mojo and you’re at the beach. But almost impossible to lose a ball. Unless you’re me. A glorious par (is that a choir of angels I hear?) and with the tee box ahead still occupied I took the opportunity to grab some water and hit the ball washing station. Right next to the ball washer is a trash can, the top closed in with just a can-sized hole. Why, yes, I did manage to drop a ball I’d just washed directly into that damn hole! It was at this point the gentleman behind me caught up, finding me laughing my butt off at the utter foolishness of losing a freshly washed ball.
My new friend asked if he could join me, he was coming back from a major surgery and hadn’t played in months. As he was telling me about his last year I was reminded of another reason I love this game. Because a total stranger doesn’t feel like a stranger for very long. My phone is filled with contacts that read “Jerry Golf”, “Steve Golf”, etc. and after two rounds, hell, we’re buds! We exchanged tales of our best and worst shots, compared clubs as he was breaking in new irons and mine were just fitted last summer. Plus he was playing SuperSofts so he’s obviously a man of great taste.
As we approached the final green and shook hands it hit me; I’ve never had a bad round. Because my worst days golfing, the errant tee shot, the one that got away and the cleanest ball lost, they’re all part of this journey. At the end there’s always a tip of the hat, the handshake but most of all the promise of the next round. See you out there, I’ll bring extra SuperSofts.
Hit ’em straight my friends,
