I have something new to fuss about. 

Yesterday, after an abysmal front-nine, I ate a "magic" hot dog at the clubhouse:  relish, coleslaw, onions on top. 

Back nine?  Two birdies, four pars, two bogies...

Whaaa?

I've eaten the hot dogs here for two years running...never had such an effect.  It can't be the hot dog, can it?

But how else to explain?  And now, worst of all -- how to do it again!

First blog attempt in nearly a year:  life got wierd.  Hello again, everyone.

The game has stayed with me, and now best of all news, I have a new, lovely, red-haired, shapely, sultry playing partner -- my wife of 25 years, Kristen.  About six weeks ago, we mutually decided to have her come along just to walk with me while I played.  (We'd discussed this before, but she'd always been too busy with all our homeschooled children, her outside tutoring, her church work, and being generally exhausted).  Being the inquisitive, scientific type, Kris began asking questions about loft, lie, swing plane, distances, etc.  She played caddie for a few days, vocally appreciating the good parts of my game.   So then I took her to the driving range, and gave her the very briefest of pointers -- grip, stance, turn back and swing through.  She showed natural aptitude, and...you golf nuts can guess what happened next.  She hit one pure, a 3-wood I think, and the game was on!  We've upped our club membership to "couple" status, and we're playing 9-holes there every day.  We've also slipped away to the local par-3 course, where Kris hit a couple pars and won a couple holes from me, ending yesterday's round just one stroke behind me.  We're having a blast!  

I've heard that some guys don't like to play golf with their wives.  I sure do.

I'm on flex-time vacation for the next several days, and plan to hit the white ball as often as humanly possible.  The forecast calls for temps in the mid-90's today, and even higher tomorrow ("feel like" temp at 102).  Yowzah.  North Carolina is beautiful (year-round golf helps), but the temps are tough for this native New Englander.  I guess I'll break out the sunscreen today, and actually expose my chicken legs in shorts.

Oooh, but the week to come!  Lochmere, Brevofield, Pascal, Sanford, Pine Burr -- even the course names bring a smile.  Maybe I can hit them all, if I can tweak the budget to fund it.  Meanwhile, the coolest thing has happened.  I recently started a discussion about Slazenger wide-sole irons.  Well, someone here in the Golflink community has written to offer me a set of Adams Ovation Irons, 4-PW, for free!  I'll let him remain nameless, as this came in a private message.  But -- what a great gift, huh?   May the golf-gods, and the God of the golf-gods, return the blessing to him seven-fold, and may his tribe increase (and handicap decrease)!

 

I got a chance to hit the famous Titleist Pro V1x today, for the first time ever (a gift from a friend).  Now I know why they're so expensive!  Bubba, thet there ball took off like a scalded dawg, and felt soft as a marshmallow coming off the club face.

But I ran into the same difficulty that I have with other high-price, high-performance gear, like "Burner" drivers and such.  These expensive things really help me hit it LONG alright... further than ever into the woods and the water.  

So, while I was musing on this, a thought came to me.  Maybe the "Pro V" on the Titleist is an abbreviation for "ProVisional," as in the next ball I hit after I hit the first one into the woods.  And, maybe the "1x" stands for the number of ProVisional balls one can use, as in 1 to the x-power.  Granted my math skills are a little fuzzy, but that would sure add up to a lot of Titleists to purchase.  

What I'd like to see is the new Titleist Pro-Tree 1x, which guarantees that shots hit into the woods will bounce back onto the fairway, regardless of how many trees get knocked or birdies get hit.  Or, the even newer Titleist Pro-H20-1x, which is chemically treated to bend ball flight away from water, which as everyone knows is a natural attractor, like static electricity is to socks.

I'd pay real money for those, let me tell you.   But in the meantime, I'll just keep hacking away with my current, less-expensive favorite math ball -- the Slazenger II.  It may be a rock, but it rolls.  And perhaps "slazenger" is German for "slices guaranteed," and the "II" means the ball has only been hit twice before I purchased it.   Works for me!

Finally...and at my home club!

Yesterday at 7:46 AM on a 158-yard par-3 (a lakeside hole dubbed "Our Most Hated Hole") and again today at 2:45 PM on a small 300-yard par-4.  BIRDIES!  The only other birdie I'd ever shot was last September (what's that...nine months ago?) on a 90-yard par-3 at another club, with no witnesses to share it.  Even that was a thrill. 

But these were way better.  Both involved long, winding putts.  Long enough for my partners to yell "Nice putt!" three times before the ball dropped.   And to my surprise, I didn't hoop like a newbie, but just did a quiet fist pump.  Like birdies are something that I do all the time, no big deal.

Right!  Usually the only birdies I get are when I slice high into the trees.

Golf is INCREDIBLE these days.  I hope this good stretch lasts awhile.

They say that golf is a great revealer of inner character.  If so, today I've been exposed as being all choked up.

I've been so pleased with my progress lately.  Remembering that I'm new (less than one year playing), that I'm completely self-taught, I've actually been quietly...well...proud of the incremental improvements I've seen.  One of the biggest pleasures has been in developing consistency off the tee.  After long agonizing months of slicing, then pushing, then fading...FINALLY I'm hitting straight, and pretty long, too, at least for me.

So what happens today?  About three holes into the round, a cart comes up with a duo, wanting to join up with my walking friend and myself to make a foursome.  "Sure," we both said.  Then I noticed that one of the guys was the assistant pro at our club.  Now, he's a great guy, probably 20 years younger than I am, down to earth and friendly and approachable.  The last professional PGA person in the world to want to intimidate anyone. 

But once they joined us, do you think I could hit the ball off the tee, for the rest of the entire blankety-blank round?  Not for love nor money!  In my head, I told myself how stupid this is, how unnecessary this is, how immature this is, etc.  I laughingly told him, "It's all your fault.  Your professional status is freaking me out."  We laughed together.  Then I whiffed...again.  I can't remember the last time I was more embarrassed.

To salvage the day, I asked him about his price for lessons, and whether he thinks he can help me.  He said he can help ANYONE.  That's good to hear, because I need help for sure, both with my tee shots and with this choking sensation.

Down heah in Nawth Cahlina...the sun is bright, and when it's warm, it's hot.  It's been a great spring season.  Why, I played 27 just today, and loved every minute.  Under these Carolina Blue skies, I'm turning brown as a nut, something my wife (and other gals) have outspokenly admired, especially my "red neck."  My tan gives the impression of overall vitality, health, and even moderate wealth.

Except for my left hand.  My glove hand.  It's not just Caucasian pink.  It's not just "winter white."  It's the color of frog belly.  And it looks wierd stuck on the end of my dark brown forearm and wrist.

Of course, this identifies me as a golfer, to other golfers.  We're "in the know" about one another, from across the room, without a word, all because of our bleached left hands.  It's like a Masonic ring or secret handshake.  You just know!

But other people have started to notice, and I think my pale hand of death sort of unnerves them.  They can't keep from glancing at it while we're talking together.  One asked in a concerned whisper, "What's...what's wrong with your hand, man?  Is...is it...leprosy or something?"

I wonder, should I sit outside on the back deck for awhile, all covered up except for the glove hand, so it can catch up with the rest of me?  What about Coppertone, with the famous logo of the famous little dog pulling down the famous little pants of the famous little girl (from a time when our country was much more innocent)...but I've rejected that idea, because that would leave me with "Orange Hand," which would be even more freaky, and I'd lose my instant golf-hand indentification with the other players around.  I don't want to play without the glove, as that would result in a white and blistered hand, like a claw.  I'd have to adopt a hunchback posture and foot drag and say "Yeees, Meester!" to make it all blend.

So I found this "Golfer's Sunlamp" at the sporting goods store, designed just to help this problem.  It promises that no golfer need ever again be embarrassed by his scary hand.  The label says this will provide such peace of mind that it will take 10 strokes off my score. 

Among the assortment of modern technical wizardry in golf clubs, like "perimeter weighting" and such, we find the purely philosophical-sounding feature, "forgiveness."  Now, I know what it technically means, but I'm intrigued by the word choice itself.  It's great -- I wonder who came up with it? 

All I know is, if some clubs are forgiving, mine actually hold a grudge! 

I've overheard them talking about it, there in the bag at night.  The 3-wood says, "I remember how often he's cursed me to my face, as though his misses are my fault!  Well, just watch what I do.  When he closes my face, I'll open it.   When he swings on plane, I'll twist outside-in.  When he tries to trap the ball on the downswing, I'll flatten out so he tops -- or even whiffs!  Ha ha ha!"

And the irons answer,"Well, I'm so sick of him chunking me, getting my grooves all filled with mud!  I'm gonna make his hands sting on every shot, and turn his fade into a banana."

Even the glove has gotten into the act.  "I'm working on a hole in the palm..."

So, how much do these forgiving clubs cost?   

An interesting thing happened today. Trying to make a long approach with my 3-wood, I topped the ball -- twice -- so badly and so stupidly that I lost my temper in a bad way.  Hadn't done that for awhile.  My tops had moved the ball maybe 30 yards and down into a muddy ditch.  Oh great, just great!  With flames coming out my nose and smoke coming out my ears, I pulled my 6-i, stomped over to the ball muttering about this stupid game and why do I continue to do this when I suck worse than a vacuum cleaner and ... BAM.  I smacked the ball with a vengeance, as though I was trying to cut it in half.  I hadn't set up over the shot, hadn't checked my grip, hadn't looked at the green, or anything.   It wasn't really a golf swing at all -- more like beating the club on the ground in frustration.  I didn't look to see where the ball went, and I didn't care.

It landed on the green, pin high.

 

 

 

I shouldn't have bragged yesterday.  Played at that  very challenging par-3 course again today, complete with lots of angles, bunkers, water, and rolling, tilted, fast greens.  I stunk like a skunk.  So did my friend, though, so we both had a good laugh.   Rounds like today's I like to call "Educational," as in "How not to do things."  These golf gods think they're so big and bad, but I know their Boss.  I'll be looking to make a fast comeback tomorrow morning on my home course.

(I'm whispering...)

I almost don't dare to say this, for fear of the wrath of the golf gods.  But my game has suddenly kicked up a notch -- a big notch!  I hope this is a permanent move, and that I can stay on this plateau for awhile.  My friend's instruction has been "key":  close the face a bit at address, rotate the right hand over the left at impact, and follow-through to a big finish.  Well!  Clocked a 234 yard drive yesterday, straight as an arrow.  Most all my tee shots have been bullets this week.  Played a whole round with a single ball (Slazenger II)!  3-woods go a mile now, 5-woods have a beautiful fade at the end, straight-blading my 6-iron to bump to the pin, and putting with authority.  Playing consistent bogey golf, and the occasional par (complete with rude shout) -- all of a sudden. 

Whooo yeah!

A most enjoyable day off from work!  Up refreshed at 5:30 AM, a reserved tee time on a great course and a round with a friend, all 18 holes, rejoiced with the good shots, and managed to laugh off the bad ones; back home grilled boneless, skinless, tequila-and-lime marinated chicken breasts on the back deck in the newly saved daylight, added mixed veggies in butter, potatoes O'Brien, ended with angel food cake smothered in strawberry pie filling; now sitting here with wife and kids writing about golf and listening to the Beach Boys.

With all the terrible strife and pain in the world today, I've had an oasis of calm and joy, and I'm very, very thankful.

 

Life became too complicated to play golf for a few weeks -- this shouldn't happen in an orderly universe.  I mean, what's the use of maintaining a club membership when I can't break away long enough to play?

But I survived the stretch.  I broke the spell with a round at a very challenging par-54 course of par-3 holes, all deviously arranged around water hazards and bunkers.  I came on confidently to hit from tee-to-green every hole...but I stunk.  Ugly golf, the whole way.  But I got to play with a Welshman who has emigrated to USA to be near his grandchildren.  He pretty much stunk too, but then birdied the last hole!  "That's as keeps us coomin' back, aye Lad?" he said, and we enjoyed jovial conversation covering everything from world politics to the drought here at home.  Great guy.

Next day, played a much better nine-hole at my home regulation-size course.  Without thinking too much about it, I narrowed my stance somewhat, and discovered a new freedom and ease in swinging, squaring the clubface and improving my follow-through.  This made a dramatic difference in the length and quality of my shots, with my 3-wood especially.  Just in time, too, as I was getting ready to see how far that particular club could fly over water.  It's a Dunlop, the "I Need Lead Tape" model, from Walmart (surely a haven for price-minded golf neophytes like me).  Anyway, after making my swing improvements, I told the club that I take back everything I've ever said about it.   

Tomorrow I get to play at a friend's home course, in Sanford NC.  I've never played there before, but my friend brags about it nonstop, how his fairways are like my greens, and his greens are like pool tables.  We'll see about that.  But I plan to have fun, no matter what.  As for my friend, he's a pretty good player for a 62-year old, but whew! Does he lose his temper when he messes up!  Loses his mind, actually.  I gave up months ago trying to perk him up at such times.

I'm a new player, and have never yet had a lesson ($), so forgive me if every new thrilling discovery I make is actually old news to you pro-am's.  But yesterday, all alone on a freezing, wind-swept course, hitting balls that felt like rocks, I happened upon something which made all the difference in my consistency:

KEEP THE LEGS QUIET!

OMG...how simple a little thing this is, and how stupid I am for not getting this sooner.  I started swinging keeping my legs much more still than I ever have, just popping the left knee forward a bit on the back swing.  Seems I'd been swaying much more than I thought I had, elastic-legging both sides on the backswing, ruining my torque and opening my follow-through for a pesky slice.  Well!  When I kept my lower body still, my swing went on-plane, my ball striking was clean and crisp, I turned completely through to face the target, and the ball (magic!) was like an arrow, long and straight, with the happiest little fade on the end of it.  And, wonder of wonders, I was able to do it again, and again, and again...

It's a whole new ball game now.  Lovin' it!

I'm so spoiled, living here in North Carolina, surrounded by golf courses that stay open all 12 months.  We had snow and ice yesterday and last night, so the courses have been closed for two days.  Two days...(2) little days...48 short hours...and I'm stuck, obsessively playing golf on the Wii all afternoon (Sports Disc and the Tiger PGA challenge).  What an addict!  Is this what it must be like up in north, when the courses close at the end of October and don't reopen until the end of March?  HOW DO YOU STAND IT?  I pray the Lord never again sends me to a church up there (the last time He did, it was before I'd started playing golf).  Surely He understands...