Today was an interesting round of golf. I played poorly for much of the round, but did very well playing against Dave.
Dave is a good golfer, a 1-handicap. He will play in the USGA Mid-Amateur qualifier this week in San Antonio. But he can be a pain to play with. He is slightly arrogant, which I can accept on the golf course. But he is also condescending, which I don’t tolerate well anywhere.
I had a fousome set up for this morning, and he showed up a little later than I’d like, as usual. Then he piddle-farted around, and we got off late. The reason he dallied is because he had taken it upon himself to invite someone else to play with us. The other guy never showed. If he had, he and Dave could have waited for another start. It was my foursome.
Then he wanted to play a side bet–a quarter skin. I asked him how many strokes he was going to give me–I have a 13-handicap. No answer. Okay.
After three holes I told him, “Dave, I’m already into your pocket for 75 cents. You better get to work.” Pressure. He doesn’t like it. Especially from a high handicapper.
Understand, I can hold my own with just about anyone in match play. Any high scores I shoot are Dalyesque–a big number on a couple of holes. After nine, he was only 1-up without giving me any strokes.
When we get to the tenth tee, he wants to change the game to two bucks a stroke, and he’ll give me six strokes. Okay. We both hit good drives, but my second bounces off line into the bunker. A wet bunker. My first attempt stuck the ball in the bunker’s face just under the lip. I tried to pop it out, but it rolled back into a hole in the sand. I couldn’t get the club through that much sand.
I picked up and played out. He got a par. “How many strokes do you want to take on this hole?”
“I can only post a seven for handicap, so let’s just say I give back all six strokes and we play scratch from here on out.” He got a wide grin. And soon regretted it. I matched him hole for hole all the way around, but bogeyed the 18th and he got a par–to beat me by one stroke. Boy did I have fun. He was getting pretty frustrated. On a par 5, his second finished 20 yards from the hole. I had a bad drive, and my second left me 130 yards. Our third shots both finished on the green the same distance from the hole. I left the putt short, and he misread the line. We both got par. Had I made birdie to his par, I’m sure he would have exploded.
Dave likes to tell everyone how far he hits the ball. And he does hit it well. But on the 16th, we arrived at our balls on the fairway, and I set up to hit the one that was about five yards shorter. I looked down, and it was his ball. “This one’s yours.” No return comment.
I don’t mind. I get a kick out the different personalities I meet on the course. I’ve met few people I hated to play with. Sometimes Dave gets to me.
Today, I got to him.
Heh. Sweet.
Comment by Sarah — August 22, 2004 @ 1:44 am
Awesome, awesome round Bunker! People can be so uptight about giving strokes. Congrats on holding your own for the outward nine after not pursuing strokes; that in itself would be enough for most of us. But handing him back the six strokes with a ‘bring it on’ attitude like that and doing so well without falling apart under that *forced-to-grind-it-out* back nine is just fantastic! Real competitors always have thick skin and sounds like you really came through – imagine how small he must feel about his game leading into that qualifier!
Comment by Rich — August 22, 2004 @ 3:50 am
Really not a big deal, Rich. I love a challenge! If I have the opportunity to rub someone’s nose in it, I try to rise to the occasion! I thought about what effect it would have on him in the qualifier. I’d really like to see him do well. But that’s up to him.
Thanks for the compliment.
Comment by Bunker — August 23, 2004 @ 6:19 am