Bunker Mulligan "Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry." ~Mark Twain

I received the latest issue of Golf Magazine in the mail yesterday. It took me about twenty minutes to go through. I spent almost as much time removing the subscription cards from it before reading.

After quickly reading David Feherty’s column inside the back cover, there was little else of value. And even Dave is losing ground. There was an annual selection of “10 Great Courses You Can Play,” all of which are a long way from Corpus Christi, and at places I’ll probably never visit. There were plenty of ads for homesites in golf communities, each of which cost half a million and required building of a home in the $1.5 million range–the kind of thing I would expect to see in an edition of Executive Golfer. Then there was an article on Kevin Kostner as a golfer. He really isn’t. He seldom plays more than nine holes at any time, spent his most recent honeymoon at St. Andrews–for the fishing, not the golf–and views time on the course as a “performance.” The magazine’s quality certainly has slipped.

No Peter Kessler interview this month. That’s a sore point. Kessler was the best interviewer The Golf Channel ever had. Arnold Palmer fired him because Peter, a true golfer, took Arnie to task for using clubs that don’t conform to USGA requirements. The magazine picked him up, and he normally has a great interview with someone of interest.

Of course there was the obligatory collection of tips on how to improve your golf game. I never read these. I do glance to see if anything new has been discerned by the skilled instructors and tour pros on the staff, but have yet to see it. There is never anything that hasn’t already been written about. A dozen times. A hundred times.

One of my playing partners in Dallas was a Golf Channel addict, and he watched every episode of “Academy Live”, even when it wasn’t. Each weekend he regaled us with the latest and greatest he had learned fom that week’s show. As we waited to tee off one morning, the Director of Golf for the club stood by and joined in the bull session. When my friend asked his opinion about some new contortion, the director simply smiled. “You keep watching those shows. It puts money in my pocket because you get so screwed up you have to get three or four lessons from me to get you back to where you were!” For a couple of weeks we heard no more of “Academy Live.”

Unless the next few issues improve, my subscription will simply expire–like their quality.

We had a tournament today at my club, and it was an interesting format. Holes 1-6 were played as a better-ball (two-man teams), holes 7-12 were alternate shot, and 13-18 were scramble. The shotgun start had us playing #14 first, and it is one of the toughest holes to begin on because it requires at least a long iron off the tee and no more than a spoon (okay, 3-wood). It plays along the bay and can be a miserable beginning with deep trouble both left and right. Fortunately, my partner put us in good position off the tee and on the second shot, and I got us on the green. We managed a par.

I have never played alternate shot before (foursome), and those six holes were interesting. We played it modified so that both partners teed off, chose the ball to play, then alternated. On #7, a par three with water all around, I put mine in the water and my partner pushed his way right. The only option was to play his ball across the water. On a steep downhill lie I couldn’t get it into the air enough to get across, so he made it from a more level lie closer to the water. We got a seven.

We did much better on the remaining holes in that format, but were sure it ended our hopes for any prize money. I had some really good drives and iron shots, and my partner made some spectacular recovery wedge shots. Neither of us putted very well. We both missed a six-foot birdie putt on 16.

Once all the scores were added up, though, we shot 77 and tied for first in our flight. We also tied for second place in net score. Pro Shop credits are always welcome, and they have some nice shoes and a bag I’ve been looking at.

I didn’t play golf Saturday. I can’t really say why. I just didn’t feel like it. I did have a lot of other things to do. I needed to clean up the yard and get rid of a lot of dead vegetation which succumbed to the snow on Christmas. And there were weeds to pull. And all the bank accounts needed an audit in preparation for doing my taxes. And my truck needed some work.

But all that was really of no importance in comparison to a round of golf. After all, they could all be done afterwards. I just didn’t feel like playing.

That’s never been an issue before. I enjoy playing regardless of weather, and the fact that temperatures were low wasn’t what stopped me. I just didn’t feel like playing.

I’ve been off my game recently. I’m not scoring as well as I’ve grown accustomed to. I’m not hitting the ball cleanly, and putts always seem to drift right. But I don’t get mad at myself for all that. I simply remind myself that I am out playing because I enjoy the game. But on Saturday, I just didn’t feel like playing.

I did all those tasks at home. And yesterday I went out and played. For most of the round, I enjoyed myself. I birdied the first hole, but didn’t play well the rest of the round. A few pars, a few bogeys, and a few “other numbers.” But I didn’t have the enthusiasm nor focus to play well. I just didn’t really feel like playing.

I think it must be some kind of mental illness that afflicts me.

Sunday was the last day my foursome played together at Gulf Winds. Dave, Herman, Gilbert, and I have been playing together every Sunday morning, first off the tee, for more than eighteen months. Gilbert played his last round with us before leaving for Huntsville, Alabama. I will begin playing regularly at my other course, so the foursome is falling apart.

Dave didn’t make it for the round that day, so Herman and I shared Gilbert’s company. The weather has been cool of late, but Sunday began at about 70 degrees. The mosquitoes loved it. These are the tough ones. When you swat them, they simply look up and say, “Is that all you’ve got?”

Gilbert plays a yellow ball, and when we feel there is enough light to see his tee shot, we’re off. He is a solid player, but doesn’t hit the ball long. He justs keeps the ball in play, takes his bogey, and revels in the occasional par or birdie. He was gone for a couple of weeks, and when he returned he hit the ball much straighter. We always claimed he had been off at the Leadbetter Academy getting first-rate instruction. When he hit a ball particularly straight, or put an approach shot close to the hole, we would call out, “LEADBETTER!” After a while, he claimed we were really insulting him, calling him a bedwetter. Gilbert never lost his enthusiasm, nor lacked any enjoyment of just being out on the course.

On the last hole I suggested he should get to choose which of our tee shots he would use on our last hole together. He pulled his, and Herman sliced his. I also pulled mine, but hit it long, about 100 yards beyond Gilbert’s ball, and 50 past Herman’s. So, Gilbert and I both played from my shot. Neither of us hit the green.

Regardless of mishits, mosquitoes, and the occasional penalty, we had a great day, like so many before. Gilbert will be back for one of the annual tournaments–after a few more trips to Leadbetter.

As I perused the web today in search of Christmas gifts, I ran across something for the average hacker: BogeyPro golf balls

• No Control–“Inspired by range ball construction, the No Control is designed for players who demand amateur-level performance and on the course frustration.”
• Poor Spin–“The Poor Spin, with its exclusive Granicore technology offers limited spin and playability for less responsive shot making.”
• Zero Distance–“By formulating a subpar combination of cover, core and dimple aerodynamics, the Zero Distance shortens shots while raising scores!”

Recently I’ve felt like I need this kind of ball. Today I managed to get my game back together, though. So, optimism returns!

Golfers know the name. Most others don’t

I want to recommend a book to all of you interested in human beings who lift themselves up through hard work and determination. It is a golf book. But before you roll your eyes and move on to another post or site, take time to consider.

Francis Ouimet won the 1913 U.S. Open as 20-year-old amateur against the world’s top player, Harry Vardon. Both men grew up in tough circumstances, and both reached the heights of golf–Vardon as a professional and Ouimet as an ameteur. Their parallel lives make for good comparisons, although these two men, unlike the ones in Plutarch’s classic, actually met and faced off against one another. Both men, Vardon in England and Ouimet in America, lifted golf to a new level in the consciousness of ordinary folks.

Mark Frost writes compellingly. His prose is excellent, and he pieces together the biographies well. I have read only four chapters so far, but every word has been a joy. Tired eyes at night is all that keeps me from reading cover to cover in a single sitting. The link will take you to Amazon where the Introduction is available for reading.

“Halved hole,” says the foe; but “No,” I say, “No”;

“Putt it out, mine enemie!

You’re dead but not buried.”

He’s shaky and flurried!

Oh! a terrible miss makes he.

Bernard Darwin describes the 12-inch putt that sends shivers down the spine. The one to win the hole, or the match.

I learned my lesson years ago, although I sometimes still fall prey to the natural instinct to avoid failure when someone concedes a putt to me. Once conceded, a putt is made–no declining. But I normally will still finish out unless pressed by the group behind (a tale for another day).

In a match play tournament several years ago I was pitted against an amiable man who had once lived in Lexington, Kentucky. So had I. He played basketball for UK many years before, but returned for at least one game each year. We talked about Lexington and the nice courses the city owns. But on this day, we were opponents.

At the turn, I was already dormie. He had a terrible front nine and was on the verge of simply returning to the clubhouse. I didn’t want to lose my playing partner for the day, as we had always enjoyed one another’s company on the course. I tried to encourage him, and he won the tenth hole. And the eleventh. And the twelfth.

Now I was getting a little frustrated! I tried to bear down and focus, but had already lost that mental edge. And his was returning. We approached the eighteeth hole with me still one up.

All I needed was to tie the hole to win the match. He finished out, and I had a long putt to win the hole. I left it 18 inches wide of the cup. I half expected him to say, “Pick it up,” and congratulate me on winning the match. He didn’t. I almost walked up and simply tapped it in, but chose to “be careful” instead. I stood over the ball, stroked the putt, and it lipped out. On to another hole. And another, which he won to take the match.

Since then, I finish every putt. Well, not always. When I’m with a group I don’t know well, I follow their lead.

It’s a life lesson, as well. How many times do we take the gimme without thought, then quiver at the simplest of tasks we’ve not been required to do for some time? We’ve lost the confidence that comes from dealing with those little things daily, and tense up when that little thing must be done.