The thread for everything golf-related

For eight holes on the back nine today, the game made sense. Hit every drive--almost drove a couple of par fours--every approach, every chip. (Didn't putt well--missed a short birdie, one four-putt.) I was 36 through eight holes. The 18th was a tough par five with a gorge. I should have gone 4-iron, 4-iron, 4-iron and played for a 7. But no.

Took an 11.

"But what about the front 9?"

Well, we don't need to talk about that.

Second hole today was a 470-yard par 5. I lost my first drive to the right--hit it well, but into the forest. Hit another one, killed it; probably 230-240, but because I flew it straight and the hole was a dogleg to the left, it played more like 260-270. Hit a hybrid-4 into the green, killed that (a club I'm hit or miss with); it bounced a couple of times onto the green and hit the flagstick. I made the three-foot putt for a par. Honest to god, though--except for the lost drive, I almost double-eagled today. (I still always fluff up a hole or two, and shot 46 for the 9.)

Played nine this morning. Three pars, missed a fourth when I three-putted from 25 feet. (Admittedly, one of the pars with a decent-sized one-putt.) 35 through seven, had a chance at a very good score for me, and then...10-9 finish.

I said it once before, but it bears repeating: awful, awful game.

I achieved near-perfect consistency in my golf game by being consistently bad. This was as a youth, when my dad would take me out with him. After many years of failing to rise to a level of mediocrity, I chose to go out golfing with him, but only to stroll alongside and chat.

That's the frustration with me: great shots mixed with absolute cluelessness. I never know why I hit one poorly, and I never know why I hit one well.

The strolling and chatting is always fun though. This morning's round was especially nice, as there was no one behind or ahead of us within two holes.

I went 42-53 today. Played with some work colleagues, the back 9 made me want to shoot myself. I'm a 22 hcp

Hitchcock at the golf course today. Walking over to the par-3 17th, there was a black bird with a touch of red sitting high in a tree. It swooped down on my friend, missed him, circled back and dive-bombed into his hat. Then it flew close over me. Obviously it was guarding a nest. When we reached the tee, I turned around and threw a golf ball back at the tree--no intention of hitting it, just wanted to, you know, send a message, like I was Bob Gibson or something. My throw was 20 feet short of the tree--I'm sure the bird got a good laugh out of that. Then it wouldn't leave us alone as we played the hole. It flew over us twice more (not as close because we held clubs up), and moved closer as we were on the green, watching us from the marsh. There were agitated geese milling about, too, adding to the fun. My friend was so unnerved, he picked up. I made bogey.