Wade's Day!

John “The Alien” Wade shot 89 today. He and Phelps swapped great shots, made pivotal putts, and razed the other teams. There were times when we saw him levitate slightly; he was sure we weren’t looking, and frankly we all pretended we didn’t see. This was not the John “I can’t play this game anymore” Wade. His last two rounds have been stellar, perhaps interstellar! Thank you, “John,” for showing us how a purported 30 handicapper can rise like a Phoenix and play out of his shoes! He was nearly silent for the entire round … And another suspicious occurrence: the “gal” would not come near him—very suspicious indeed!

Great to watch you, John. Keep it up!

Happy Birthday to me!

Will there be more levity

The year that I hit 70?

Will life be less kind

Than it was at 69?

I have all the sayings—

“Carpe diem,” “Time starts now”—

Wonderful sayings

 But they don’t show how …

Will my game improve if I have the will?

Or will someone invent a golf-blue pill?

68  found me wanting; it wasn’t so great,

I found so much more was left on my plate.

A med for this, a med for that,

Numbers tell if I’m thin or fat.

My gray is growing like global warming—a fact?

If found a lie, will my hair grow back?

This aging really ain’t no joke,

What keeps on gaining is the weight of the yoke.

Still, I’m happy about wakin’ up,

Less likely to worry or apt to erupt.  

I have my remote and my 805,

The hops-filled bubbly that keeps me alive.

I have my memories—I see them as I will,

Sure that 70 will add to the fill.

I wear a reminder 24 a day,

That nothing we can do changes yesterday …

I know I’ve had icing more than cake,

Someone’s been watching over Raggio’s fate.

Don't stop now, whoever you are—

I trust the way you've driven the car!

A man without his 805...!

The “Breakfast” Round

Scramble [skram-buhl]

verb (used without object), scrambled, scrambling.

1. to climb or move quickly using one's hands and feet, as down a rough incline.

2. to compete or struggle with others for possession or gain: skins, cash, bragging rights, and of course 805!

The word “scramble” to me first conjures up eggs—served most often in that lazy format called “scrambled eggs.” However, there is as well another description of an ultra-scramble: The Breakfast Round! Not just the mere roiling of chicken embryos to accompany toast, but that round so rarely exercised on the fairways of golf-life—the one where each player equally metes out his best to preserve par and/or better yet, contribute subparence (new word). And so it was on January 18, 2018, that a threesome—threesome—did fashion such a round that the phrase “hamming and egging it” became The Breakfast Round!  

So deft were these three that they recorded a 65—seven under par!  John “make a dragon wanna retire” Wade, Allan “The Kryptonite Kid” Westlund, and Glenn “I’m gonna wear that hat no matter what” Raggio—the trio never saw bogey. They were the ultimate ham and eggers. 

John never said “never,” Allan never lost his tee, and Raggio never once looked for a place to admire his reflection!  

Distance (as in size) didn’t come into play. Raggio’s duck hook and Westlund’s occasional “another county drive” left things to Wade, and he rose from the ashes of his self-proclaimed “I can’t play this game anymore” to step up and prove himself able!

So there it stands—7 under, a new record! Strategies are already being discussed, plans are being made, and Vegas is calculating odds! 

Bravo, Dick! If we can do this once or twice a month and offer another group the opportunity to challenge The Breakfast Round, I believe we all benefit. Blindfolding Alan is not an option—nor is a paper bag—bad connotation there!

Dick's Place!

                 The small sign on the bottom right reads: So few Richards, so many Dicks!

Riva and Raggio vs Fred and Ed!

Okay, here’s a golf first: a squirrel falls from the sky, hits the earth with a thud, and before it has a chance to collect itself, it’s immediately scooped up in the jaws of a coyote running mach 5. The coyote, mouth full, quickly disappears in the brush. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a relay!

It happened so fast and the timing was so perfect we actually thought it was staged! The hawk that originally “owned” the squirrel kept flying after it dropped its prey; it never broke wing-stride, just slowly flew away. 

Remarkable!

But that was not going to be the only remarkable event of the day! We move now into Ripley’s Believe It or Not territory. Riva and I share a cart, Fred and Ed are in theirs. I suggest (foolishly) that lefties play against righties. I know we’re going to get destroyed. The “Fred-and-Ed-some” is notorious for its partner play. Sextants aside, these guys live for these moments! Their smiles immediately disappear and they go into factory mode. Distances, wind, roll—they have headphones on now and Riva looks at me and says, “See what you started!” 

Dueling banjos have nothing on these guys; they are both on the tee looking like scouts from some past cavalry, talking to each other while looking through binoculars (range things). A short nod and I am already regretting the suggestion.

We somehow tie the first hole! 

And then, we proceed to win the next eight … Riva and I both shoot 42! We end up 83-86, respectively.  We finish 4 and 3! I write this only because it is so rare that these guys ever go down! I’m looking for an old tooth to put under my pillow! Great sports, they bought us beers.   

Oh, and Raggio’s new Titleist AP1 irons perform past expectations!

This is a true story!

Pic and video of a very, very rare day... lefties vs righties

Another close one on #7 Coach and Raggio

We both missed our putts...

Nice swing Fred...