I played Willow Springs today, one of the dozen or so municipal courses in San Antonio. I decided to play from the tips, in spite of the 7221 yards. The course rating is 73.9 from the gold tees, with a slope of 134. For the uninitiated, a “standard” course would be rated at 72.0 with a slope of 113. The stroke rating is based on play in the fairways, and slope is an indicator of the kinds of trouble that await you when you stray. Length also factors into slope.
I shot 89, which isn’t too bad. I played the front nine alone, stuck behind a threesome who felt they owned the course. On the back nine, another single caught up to me and we finished the last eight holes together.
The guys ahead were not very good, but played like they were. One would pull a club, put it back and get another, change his mind and get another. Then he would take two practice swings, back up and check his line, then get up and hit. The he might take another practice swing because he topped the ball and it rolled 50 yards.
Another in the group was in no hurry to go anywhere. As slow as his partners were, they often had to wait on him.
The third was one of the types that really make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. He consistently hit the ball 150 yards off the tee. He would then stand over his ball and wait for the group ahead to get off the green before he hit his second–which needed to carry 250 yards to reach it. Over and over and over. If you can’t hit your drives more than 150 yards, what makes you think you’ll hit the 3-wood 250?
My pick-up partner made up for the delays. I played much better once I wasn’t standing around waiting on the guys ahead, and had someone to share the fun and pain with–and tell lies to. Golf is good.