|"I'm just a caveman."|
Every golfer has an Achilles heel. Mine is fairly common – the driver. Some days I pick it up and I feel like a caveman who has just been handed an electric guitar. I kind of stare it wondering how it works and then I go to the range and play with it until I can get some kind of music to come out of it. If I can get it to make at least a flat twang, I shrug my shoulders and take that swing to the first tee. Some days it’s so bad I start laughing on my downswing as I realize, “I have no idea where this is going.” It is one of the reasons I joined a club with no houses on it.
With that being the case, I was justifiably trepidatious as I prepared for my rain shortened one round qualifying tournament last Sunday. The 7,000+ yard course had been underwater for a week so the fairways were like oatmeal and the rough looked like a genetically engineered spinach farm. It was kind of like playing on the set of Swamp Thing. Ideal conditions for a guy who is generally satisfied with hitting about five out of fourteen fairways. So what did I do? I hit four of the first five. Where did I stand after six holes (#4 is a par three)? Six over par! How did I accomplish this? Thirteen putts which, for those doing the math, is 6 holes x 2 putts per hole +1 and it didn’t get any better from there as I finished with thirty-eight putts (18 x 2 + 2). Suffice it to say I missed the cut.
I have been walking around for four days muttering “38 putts, 38 putts….38 putts.” When people say, “excuse me?” I respond with “never mind” but what I want to say is “38 GODDAMN MUTHERF---ING PUTTS!!!!!” How does that happen? I mean you’re taking a flat object and using it to roll a ball across the ground into a hole. Sometimes the ball should just hit the hole by accident right? RIGHT?!?! Isn’t that some kind of combination of the laws of probability and physics? Eventually a rolling ball will discover gravity and fall straight down? Screw you Sir Isaac Newton.
|"I'm mind f-cking you right now."|