I've had 5 hole in one's. And a hole in 3. Tough way to make par. So, what business do I have paying $250 to $350 for a round of golf that will most likely be pure, unadulterated agony? Because I can then say I DID play Pebble and I DID play Whistling Straits and I DID play East Lake. A few years ago a girlfriend of mine was on a tear. She has OCD and whenever she starts something, she goes whole hog (a nice old southern phrase). So now it was golf's turn. In two years she went from a 40 to a 12. You read right. She flew to Florida to take lessons from one of the best female teaching pros in the nation, she played every day, practiced at night. Took yoga to strengthen her core, lifted weights to get longer drives, and had sex the morning of a tournament to get her excited. I kid you not. Knowing that I love to travel and since I'm retired and can go at a whim, she asked me if I'd like to go play Pebble Beach. My answer. How much? She found out that if you played in the afternoon, you got somewhat of a break. We stayed 2 nights and played 3 rounds, Spanish Bay, Cypress Point and Pebble. Spanish Bay and Cypress Point weren't all that difficult to play. But Pebble. Well, I tried to tell myself just enjoy the view and the caddie and have fun. Right. Why do we do this to ourselves? I hit balls in the water, I hit balls into the rough that was 3 inches high, I dribbled, I drobbled, all the while the caddy looking at me and thinking, I hope this broad tips well. I think I shot a 120. And that's on the conservative side. But you know what? They paired us with two businessmen from Indiana who were both single digit handicappers and they shot in the 90's. So now I drive my husband crazy because when we watch any tournament at Pebble I can make him madder than hornet by saying, "I remember that hole. It's a little dog leg left with a big bunker on the right..." I've been there and you haven't!
Monday, March 15, 2010
Got Myself a Big Stick Swinging in the Dirt
That's a terrific lyric from Bruce Hornsby's Big Stick from the movie Tin Cup. As I stated before, I'm a mediocre golfer, hacking away hoping to one day continually break 80...OK 85. And as I stated in a previous blog, I'm not big on taking lessons. My one claim to fame?
I've had 5 hole in one's. And a hole in 3. Tough way to make par. So, what business do I have paying $250 to $350 for a round of golf that will most likely be pure, unadulterated agony? Because I can then say I DID play Pebble and I DID play Whistling Straits and I DID play East Lake. A few years ago a girlfriend of mine was on a tear. She has OCD and whenever she starts something, she goes whole hog (a nice old southern phrase). So now it was golf's turn. In two years she went from a 40 to a 12. You read right. She flew to Florida to take lessons from one of the best female teaching pros in the nation, she played every day, practiced at night. Took yoga to strengthen her core, lifted weights to get longer drives, and had sex the morning of a tournament to get her excited. I kid you not. Knowing that I love to travel and since I'm retired and can go at a whim, she asked me if I'd like to go play Pebble Beach. My answer. How much? She found out that if you played in the afternoon, you got somewhat of a break. We stayed 2 nights and played 3 rounds, Spanish Bay, Cypress Point and Pebble. Spanish Bay and Cypress Point weren't all that difficult to play. But Pebble. Well, I tried to tell myself just enjoy the view and the caddie and have fun. Right. Why do we do this to ourselves? I hit balls in the water, I hit balls into the rough that was 3 inches high, I dribbled, I drobbled, all the while the caddy looking at me and thinking, I hope this broad tips well. I think I shot a 120. And that's on the conservative side. But you know what? They paired us with two businessmen from Indiana who were both single digit handicappers and they shot in the 90's. So now I drive my husband crazy because when we watch any tournament at Pebble I can make him madder than hornet by saying, "I remember that hole. It's a little dog leg left with a big bunker on the right..." I've been there and you haven't!
I've had 5 hole in one's. And a hole in 3. Tough way to make par. So, what business do I have paying $250 to $350 for a round of golf that will most likely be pure, unadulterated agony? Because I can then say I DID play Pebble and I DID play Whistling Straits and I DID play East Lake. A few years ago a girlfriend of mine was on a tear. She has OCD and whenever she starts something, she goes whole hog (a nice old southern phrase). So now it was golf's turn. In two years she went from a 40 to a 12. You read right. She flew to Florida to take lessons from one of the best female teaching pros in the nation, she played every day, practiced at night. Took yoga to strengthen her core, lifted weights to get longer drives, and had sex the morning of a tournament to get her excited. I kid you not. Knowing that I love to travel and since I'm retired and can go at a whim, she asked me if I'd like to go play Pebble Beach. My answer. How much? She found out that if you played in the afternoon, you got somewhat of a break. We stayed 2 nights and played 3 rounds, Spanish Bay, Cypress Point and Pebble. Spanish Bay and Cypress Point weren't all that difficult to play. But Pebble. Well, I tried to tell myself just enjoy the view and the caddie and have fun. Right. Why do we do this to ourselves? I hit balls in the water, I hit balls into the rough that was 3 inches high, I dribbled, I drobbled, all the while the caddy looking at me and thinking, I hope this broad tips well. I think I shot a 120. And that's on the conservative side. But you know what? They paired us with two businessmen from Indiana who were both single digit handicappers and they shot in the 90's. So now I drive my husband crazy because when we watch any tournament at Pebble I can make him madder than hornet by saying, "I remember that hole. It's a little dog leg left with a big bunker on the right..." I've been there and you haven't!
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