Monday, April 23, 2018
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
Who is this man??
Hint: sometimes he plays the red tees.
Yep, air guitarist extraordinaire, John "Zorro" Wade at his wedding to Bambi!
Yep, air guitarist extraordinaire, John "Zorro" Wade at his wedding to Bambi!
Friday, April 13, 2018
Any Way the Wind Blows
There are four of us in the car driving to the course; Coach is piloting and displaying how he could let the car crash but doesn’t, and shows how (in real time and action) he stopped the car from a rear-end crash just in the nick of time. The Honda in front of us has wet himself, and Coach explains that it’s good for a car/man to “know his limitations” (too much Dirty Harry if you ask me). Sam is talking about the book he’s reading (I don’t even read instructions—why would I read something with more than one page?!). Fred is talking about the weather and how cool the temperature will be compared to previous days. I’m experiencing involuntary sphincter spasms as Coach is going through the litany of safety options he’s discovered on his Rav 4. Sam and Fred look up only when g-forces are pressuring their seat belts. Coach says, “Now, I’ve discovered if I let the wheel go completely …”
Arriving at the course we all exit, kiss the ground, and notice that Fred was correct about his assessment of the temperature and we’re all going semi-Sherpa once again. The foursome in the car is the foursome on the course. On the first tee, Fred decides to add a caveat to his forecast: “Winds are predicted up to 30 mph today!” We begin examining the wind on the treetops and shrug, as it seems that, while there is wind, the course is “playable.”
Four holes later
Learning to lean and place your ball on a tee that is in fact at a 15-degree angle towards the wind to allow the ball to remain on the tee is interesting, but gets old quickly. It’s like watching someone play with Lincoln Logs—poorly. I watch Fred tee his ball up carefully and then watch his hat fly off his head as though it had been shot off by a sniper. I wait a moment after he hits his ball and say, “Nice drive—too bad it didn’t go as far as your hat; I’m sure someone in Clovis will turn it in!”
Some portions of this dialogue contain exaggeration.
Wednesday, April 11, 2018
Monday, April 9, 2018
She...
...is absolutely beautiful!
Not every golf course has a wild coyote that comes when you whistle!
Not every golf course has a wild coyote that comes when you whistle!
Tuesday, April 3, 2018
I can't...
As I drove in with Wade, he was already in full complaint about his hands. (We all know the items that plague him and their discouraging effects.)
I suggested that he was going to have a really good game today, after his last duel with Eagle and his 91.
"Oh no, I don't have back-to-back good games."
"You were on that last game, Fireman!"
"I know!"
Mr. "I can't chip, putt, get the ball in the air, drive, make bacon the way I want, leap buildings in a single bound, climb Everest, hit a baseball 500 feet …" and the list goes on, is a man who takes full advantage of opportunity when it's offered. Many of his reactive reactions to failure that saw angry responses have ebbed and turned more philosophical, and there is even some understandable resignation. He battles with more maladies than most, so when he is on and all the parts are agreeing, it is nothing less than a pleasure to witness. He gets anxious and excited, forgets to take that practice swing because he feels he is righting a ship that doesn't often sail in his direction; he needs that pre-swing to rein in the enthusiasm and encourage what isn't always rote. He's a mathematician about his handicap and his score. He senses when potential is upon him, and frankly, when he's on offense, as he was the other day, he's Zorro, only taller.
I love watching this self-proclaimed underdog achieve and surpass—win, lose, or draw as a team—and when one of us is "killin’ it" it's better than anything on TV. It's live, it's real and it's one of ours. We all have our "Fairway Demons"—it’s the nature of the game—but every now and again when the golf gods are at intermission, we sneak in a good round. And we live for that day, that experience. The "music" follows us around until we're on the tee again, praying, hoping, and ready to swear.
Mr. 91 strikes again! You can!
I suggested that he was going to have a really good game today, after his last duel with Eagle and his 91.
"Oh no, I don't have back-to-back good games."
"You were on that last game, Fireman!"
"I know!"
Mr. "I can't chip, putt, get the ball in the air, drive, make bacon the way I want, leap buildings in a single bound, climb Everest, hit a baseball 500 feet …" and the list goes on, is a man who takes full advantage of opportunity when it's offered. Many of his reactive reactions to failure that saw angry responses have ebbed and turned more philosophical, and there is even some understandable resignation. He battles with more maladies than most, so when he is on and all the parts are agreeing, it is nothing less than a pleasure to witness. He gets anxious and excited, forgets to take that practice swing because he feels he is righting a ship that doesn't often sail in his direction; he needs that pre-swing to rein in the enthusiasm and encourage what isn't always rote. He's a mathematician about his handicap and his score. He senses when potential is upon him, and frankly, when he's on offense, as he was the other day, he's Zorro, only taller.
I love watching this self-proclaimed underdog achieve and surpass—win, lose, or draw as a team—and when one of us is "killin’ it" it's better than anything on TV. It's live, it's real and it's one of ours. We all have our "Fairway Demons"—it’s the nature of the game—but every now and again when the golf gods are at intermission, we sneak in a good round. And we live for that day, that experience. The "music" follows us around until we're on the tee again, praying, hoping, and ready to swear.
Mr. 91 strikes again! You can!
Monday, April 2, 2018
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