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

It was a pretty good week, but I’m worn out. Just drove home today after eating a huge meal with my son and his lovely bride last night–body still recovering.

I was in sixth place Thursday morning having taken first place for the day Wednesday. But I couldn’t hit a shot all day. We finished five under yesterday, and that won’t be enough to hold on to my position from Wednesday.

But my C-player is an old Army colonel I teamed with one day last year. He’s 77 and still can launch a long drive on occasion. He outdrove both me and our A-player twice. Last year he played as a D-player after having some back problems, but still drove one 4-par green on Hal Sutton’s course. He also chipped in one of our few birdies. It was good to see and talk with him again, just two old helicopter guys from two generations.

That’s the best part of this tournament. Some guys are out there trying to win money. Many of us just want to see old friends and comrades, and have a few days of golf together.

I don’t enjoy playing golf with guys who hit the ball a long way. It is impressive to see the ball launched off the driver face, and the long carry is pretty special. Seeing someone hit a ball a long way is fascinating.

Their demeanor usually isn’t. I don’t put all long knockers in that category, but the average weekend big hitter is annoying. He acts as if none of the rest of us saw him hit. “I ripped that one!” Yes, you did.

They talk constantly about how far they hit the ball. And they are always interested in what club you hit on a shot. Well, not really. What they really want is the opportunity to tell you what club they used.

“What club did you hit?” he asks in false curiosity.

“5-iron.”

“Yeah. I tried to ease up on that 8-iron. I was afraid I’d fly the green. So I end up hitting it fat. Shoulda got to the green easy.”

I nod my head. Yes. You should have.

One popular saying in golf is that the scorcard doesn’t track style points. One of my regular group, well into his eighties, got an eagle last weekend. He hit a 7-wood from 100 yards and the ball bounced into the hole. Score a 2 on a 4-par, no style points. Where the ball finishes is more important than how it got there. The scorecard doesn’t care whether you hit a driver or a 3-iron off that tee. All it cares about is the number you write down when you finish the hole.

But for some players, hitting the ball a long way is all that matters.

In my younger days, I hit my laminated maple driver 275-300 yards regularly. I understand the psychology. I also seldom knew how far right it would end up. Now, I hit my titanium-faced driver 250-275 yards–sometimes more, often less. But I usually know where it will end up when it stops rolling.

And when I occasionally still put one out there over 300 yards, I simply say–under my breath, “Damn. Nice shot.”

Eleven under today. Good team. Everyone contributed. Our A-player hit the ball a long way, but control was an issue. When he hit close to the green, I’d chip it close, we’d get a birdie. We never had more than a tap-in for par, and had several tap-ins for birdie. The other two players put the ball in position to allow us to slam our drives. At worst, we had a short iron to the green. Those two guys helped tremendously with solid short games and consistent tee shots. And putts.

In short, we played very well as a scramble team and always had a couple of options for the next shot on a tough course.

That’s what it takes.