Phil's Propeller Clubs

It reminded me of one of those “Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote” kind of days.  In the early spring the snow disappears, the sun starts poking his head through the clouds, and the first major golf tournament is held in August, Georgia every year, The Masters.  All of these symptoms of early spring infect golfers just as much as Medieval Pilgrims.  The snow isn’t non-existent in early spring however.  It just changes form.  The “shoures soote” was flooding the golf course when my buddies and I went out for our first outing of early spring.  We didn’t care.  After watching The Masters, we could not hold a thought other than a flush green fairway for more than thirty seconds.  We had to get the monkey off our backs, so we put some rain gear on, through the club covers over top our bags, grabbed some Jameson, and hit the links.

I went golfing that afternoon with two lefties; one of whom was rather stupid, we’ll call him Jeremy.  He forgot his clubs at his house 45 minutes away, so the other lefty, we’ll call him Phil, out of the kindness of his heart, shared his southpaw clubs with with Jeremy.  Phil would soon realize that no good deed goes unpunished.  

We arrived at the clubhouse for our 10:00 am tee time around 9:30.  Not only was it raining on the course, but it was chilly for April.  It was about 50 degrees, and with a sopping wet clothes, my buddies and I felt every bit of that 50 degrees.  Especially Phil.  Poor Phil did not come very prepared for the conditions that we were battling.  While Jeremy and I had waterproof pullovers and khakis, Phil decided that he would be comfortable in shorts and a polo.  For having such good Karma on his side, Phil was off to a rough start before he hit a single ball.  

There is something beautiful about a golf course covered in rain drops.  On every green, there were an infinite amount of diamonds awaiting every player who would inevitably be shanking their Titleists and Callaways anywhere other than the tin cup.  Inside every cup was a pool of water that shakes your hand with a frozen greeting when you reach to get your ball out after a well earned triple bogey.   

On the 4th tee box, Phil already seemed to be showing signs of hypothermia, but he knew that we would relentlessly tear him apart if he complained about the weather while wearing his summer attire.  He kept his mouth shut.  He teed up his ball and prepared to send it no further than his mediocre swing can  manage.  He brought his club back and forward,  and just as he made horrible contact with the ball, it sounded like a helicopter was taking off from the palm of his hands.  The grips on his clubs were compromised, so his 6 iron flew ten feet in the air behind us.  It looked,  and sounded, like a propellor spun right off its axis.  The club lodged itself up in a tree just out of our reach.  Jeremy and I had to hide our laughter while Phil did his walk of shame down the fairway to find his ball that rolled about 20 yards.  At least his day couldn't get any worse from there right?... Wrong.

On the 9th tee box, Jeremy grabbed one of Phil’s clubs to tee off this particularly difficult tee box that was placed just on top of a steep ravine (you probably know where this is going and you are right).  Jeremy reached back with Phil’s soon to be second missing club of the day, and took his swing. Jeremy sent Phil’s 8 iron right down to the depths of the ravine.  As Yogi Berra would say, it was deja vu all over again.  Both Jeremy and I turned to Phil to see him with his head in his hands.  He looked like a child who could’t finds his mother in a grocery store.  Jeremy felt awful.  I was dying of laughter.  Phil was now just as disappointed as he was freezing.

Because Jeremy and I felt so bad for Phil, we decided to call it a round after that travesty of a 9th hole.  We tried to make it up to Phil by taking him to hooters and buying him some wings and beer.  After his 3rd wing , 7th beer, and 2nd waitress to make fun of him for wearing shorts, he forgot all about his two missing clubs.  

Just to add closer to this disaster of a golf outing, Jeremy and I went back to that same course a couple weeks later when it was warm.  On that 4th tee box we went searching in that same tree that we figured was the grave sight of Phil’s 6 iron.  Amazingly, we found it.  That 8 Iron is another story.  That sucker will stay down in that ravine for a long time.             

Hit ‘em Long,  Hit ‘em Straight,

Sean

The Weather and Golf

It’s back.  Warm weather has finally returned to us after a grueling winter.  There is a true correlation between golfing and a spring day that links the two so tightly that it is almost impossible not to fantasize about playing 18 when the smell of fresh cut grass fills the air.  We all have been sitting at work or sitting in class on a 70 degree day and have daydreamed about putting for birdie.  Putting for bogey is probably more accurate, at least for my case, but the score is not the point.  What is important is that golf and warm days go together like bunkers and sand wedges.  

All this being said, I am not one of those guys who believes the old cliche that worst day on the golf course beats the best day at work.  That’s ridiculous.  Sometimes the game of golf can get in your mind, infect your brain, and ruin an entire weekend.  You might hit a couple bad shots in a round, come back home and be short tempered with your wife or significant other, and then, before you know it, you’re in the doghouse.  All this because of a couple bad drives out of the tee box.  

I’ve played horrible rounds on beautiful 75 degree days, and I have played great rounds during a November 40 degree rainstorm.  Just like anything else, golf is what you get out of it.  If you just want to go out there to enjoy the weather, then do not get agitated when you shank one or twelve into the woods.  After all, you’re out there just to enjoy the day right?   

I’d probably just go to work if I had to putt through that crap on the left.   

Hit ‘em Long, Hit ‘em Straight,

Sean    

"Water or PBR"

The thermometer in the clubhouse read 95 degrees.  It was one of those days on the course when the bottles of Jack Daniels were replaced by bottles of Deer Park in the golf bag. The heat wave did not stop my two buddies and I from playing a quick 18 on that August weekend.  

      

The course we were playing that day was a new one for me, however, my two friends had had some experience with the course already.  The main topic of conversation between my two friends before teeing off had nothing to do with the course or the blazing heat; the only part of their previous round at that course that they can remember was the cart girl.  A cart girl has the very important job of serving drinks and snacks to the golfers.  All courses require that this position be filled by a lady, usually in her mid twenties, and, most of all, be rather attractive.  All courses have them, but my buddies kept saying that this particular course had the most beautiful girl they had ever seen operate a golf cart.  I didn't really believe them.  These two particular friends of mine think any girl who gives them beer is the prettiest girl in the world.  

      

The heat was like a soaking wet blanket.  The 90% humidity made it tough to breath at times.  It was like holding your breath in a hot tub.  Even when the sprinklers came on, the water evaporated immediately into the air, barely leaving enough moisture for the grass to drink to keep its illustrious, green color.  You did not even want to drink out of the water coolers that the golf course had placed at every tee box because the water lost it's chill earlier that morning.  

      

We drove up to the 7th tee box and still had no sign of the mythical siren that my two buddies were still praying to see.  I figured she must have had the day off, but my two friends refused to lose hope that they would again see the face that launched a thousand golf carts.  They knew that she would want to be out today because it was so hot.  I had to agree with their logic.  A pretty girl serving drinks on a day like this could make enough money to retire early.

      

Just as I lined up my shot, I noticed a cart down the path adjacent to the fairway.  This cart was larger than usual. As it drove closer to our tee box, I noticed that it was being operated by a woman with auburn hair.  Her hair was the first thing I saw. The way the aggressive sun shone on her made her hair very striking.  She stopped her cart and signaled to us to tee off, and she would wait to drive through.  I suddenly felt an unbearable amount of pressure.  No golfer wants to embarrass himself by shanking his ball when the cart girl is watching carefully.  Luckily, I hit my best drive of the day. I wish I could say the same for my two friends.  After they had shamed themselves by hitting their balls into the woods, we drove down to where the cart girl was parked.  As I drew closer to her, I noticed she had a face full of freckles and skin that was as white as milk.  She wore this look very well; it was as if she was an Irish Aphrodite.  At this point, I assumed my two friends had forgotten how to talk, so I knew that I would have to break the ice.  I hopped out of my car and said hello, and before she could say hello back, she smiled, and because of her smile it did not feel like it was a million degrees anymore.  When her face lit up, I was taken aback to spring time.  I was, to my own surprise, smitten.  I had to give it to my friends, they were right.

 

I only had a 5 dollar bill, and I wanted to make sure to tip her well, so I polity asked if she had anything under 3 dollars.  That is when she said it, in a voice that only exists in poet's mind when writing about a first love that ended in tragic beauty, "Water or PBR."  Not only did it sound like she sang it, but her lyrics where my two favorite beverages in the whole world.  

      

I bought the PBR, tipped my hat, and we continued our round. We never saw her again.  Not even when we played that course the next week, which was the only reason we went back.  I think that makes me appreciate the encounter all the more. I am proud of the fact that I can notice all of that romantic "what-have-you" about a girl without it being interrupted by the usual disease of thoughts that all of us males suffer from.  Does that mean I wish I would have spoken to the girl more? Absolutely not.  I am perfectly content with the memory.   

Hit 'em Long, Hit 'em Straight,

Sean                      

You've Been Paired

When the weather is crisp and one those random days off comes around, a sudden urge befalls golfers to go out and hit the links.  The usual guys who you play with might not be blessed with that same day off, so you have to go play 18 by yourself.  There is nothing wrong with that.  It is nice to get out and play alone.  The round usually goes by a lot quicker, so you can take your time and enjoy every second and every swing that the golf course has to offer.  When you get to the hole with a lot of water, you can stop and observe that turtle just hanging out on the rock.  How many times do you get to see turtles on an average day?  On one of the greens you can look up at the bright, clear sky and be grateful that you were able to get out on such a perfect day, and smile as you think about your golf buddies putting their lumps in at work.  You want to move your ball out of the rough onto the fairway? Go ahead. No one is looking.   There are several perks to playing 18 holes against your best opponent, yourself.  However, more likely than not, many golfers had the same urge as you did and want to go play a quick round.  On those crowded days at the course, golfers will get paired up to play a round with a fellow player in order to allow everyone to start on time, especially if you are just a party of one.  Here are a few guidelines to follow when paired up with a stranger.  

Be A Gentleman:  

I should not have to go into any other detail.  When you get paired up with someone you have never met before, you must introduce yourself properly: remove your hat, shake the man’s hand, firmly, and say your name. Pretty simple.  There is no need to be friends with the guy, but every player must be congenial.  Respect the game by respecting those with whom you are playing.

Hospitality:

Act as though the man is a guest in your house or you are a guest in his.  If you are a player who enjoys a cigar on the course, be sure to ask him if he does not mind you smoking.  Some guys have issues with asthma or just cannot stand the smell of smoke.  You do not want to ruin his outing.  It is as much his day on the course as it is yours.  If he does not mind the smoke, go a head and offer him a stogie if you have an extra one.  Nothing weird about that.  If you are the type of player who brings a couple of beers to the course.  Go ahead and offer one to your partner.  In that same vein, if he offers you a beer or any other beverage, it is perfectly fine to accept.  Maybe after the 2nd or 3rd offer though.    

Never show emotion:

It is very easy to get angry on the golf course.  If you are paired with a stranger, you do not want your emotions getting the best of you.  It is incredibly uncomfortable when you witness a guy you just met lose his patience, and his mind, and hurl his 7 iron into a tree.  If you have a bad shot, bad hole, or bad couple holes in a row, grit your teeth and laugh it off.  On the contrary, it is extremely admirable to see a guy ruling over his emotions in such a stoic fashion.  Similarly, if you have take an incredible shot, do not act like you just won the Masters, simply walk back to your cart or down the fairway.  Act like you take shots like that all the time and you will come across as a very impressive player, even if you aren’t.   

Obey ALL Etiquette:  

When you are playing with your buddies, naturally you are not going to follow every small piece of golf etiquette, but when you are paired with a stranger, you must do your best to follow etiquette closely.  You do not want the man thinking you are an ignorant player.  If his ball is away (that is, further from the green or hole) he must hit first.  Be silent during all swings.  Never step on his lie (that is, when his ball is on the green, you should never walk between the ball and the hole).   Some of these etiquette rules are easy to forget when you are playing with your friends because you know that they know that you know what the rules are, but they are your friends, so really, couldn't care less.  When playing with a random guy, you have to demonstrate that you are no stranger to the golf course, so you must follow every piece of golf etiquette.   

Have Privacy, Respect Privacy:

It is golf, not 20 questions.  You should not interrogate you partner beyond asking (maybe) what he does for work.  That is one of the few acceptable questions on the golf course.  Remember, you are just playing with the guy for a couple hours; you do not have to be friends.  You should never ask him questions about his game other than how often he is able to get out, and in some situations, that might be pushing it.  Such as, if he clearly is never able to get out, or if he obviously gets out several times a week.  You should not have to reveal anything about your game either.  Never try to give pointers to a golfer that you have never met.  It comes across as arrogant.  If he takes a bad shot, don’t say anything.  If he takes the best shot you have ever seen, all you should say is: nice shot.  

Behavior with a player that you are randomly paired with is similar to behavior with co-workers.  You do not have to be their friends, you just have to get along with them for a couple hours a day.  You should be congenial with your co-workers, you should never act overly emotional at your place of work, and you should keep your private life private.  The more that you go out and enjoy the links with a stranger, the better you will be at working together with a co-worker. Guaranteed.   

Hit ‘em Long, Hit ‘em Straight,

Sean                    

Keep the Pace, Keep your Distance

I am going to harp on a specific piece of golf etiquette that I uphold no matter when, where, or with whom I am playing.  It is rate of play and keeping a safe distance between your group and the group in front of yours.  This rule is simple.  Do not take an eternity to finish a round of golf, and by no means should a player ever hit his or her ball anywhere near the previous party.  There are easy solutions to both of these conundrums.  If a player usually takes more time to finish a hole, or perhaps he or she needs more time because of lack of skill, then that player should let the party behind him or her “play through” as we like to call it.  This is when the slower player(s) tee off, but wait by the tee box for the party following closely behind to fully catch up.  When the faster player(s) approach the tee box, they should be informed by the slower player(s) that they have already teed off and point out where their balls are on the fairway (or in the rough), and of course, the slower player(s) should allow the faster player(s) to tee off and make his, her, or their way down the fairway first.  Pretty simple.  If a player is in the opposite scenario, and the party ahead is taking forever and not allowing an opportunity to “play through,” then the faster party must be patient and wait, and not hit into the previous players.  If it gets out of hand and the players ahead are holding up several parties, then there are a couple options: simply skip the hole that you are currently on and come back to it, or, if you are rather unconfrontational then it is also acceptable to notify the clubhouse that there are morons on the course and the officials will usually take care of it.  The whole idea here is to not be a jerk, have respect, and do not put anyone in danger of taking a golf ball to the face.  No one needs that lawsuit.

I have had several run-ins with this breach in golf etiquette, but one in particular sticks out in my memory.  It was on Thanksgiving this past year; my uncle, my brother-in-law, and I decided to get a tee time early in the morning before our family dinner.  It was a cold and damp morning, we had had a freeze the night before but the ground had yet to defrost so the short grass on the fairways and greens felt like concrete.  The trees had no leaves but the grass was as green as it is after a heavy summer rain.  The beauty of the course was impossible not to appreciate even though the weather around us was flirting with freezing.  There was no sound on the golf course; the running creeks through the woods were frozen; there were no birds chirping because they had already outsmarted all of us and gone south.  Despite the absence of the auditory sense and the bitter cold, the sight of the overwhelming green and the smell of fresh cut grass made it feel like that we were playing in May.  

Before we teed off, we had asked the guys working in the clubhouse if there was anyone in front of us.  To our surprise, there were people insane enough to play golf on Thanksgiving, but we were informed that they had teed off 45 minutes before us, so we did not expect to see them.  Unfortunately our expectations were false, and we had caught up to them around the 7th hole.  We did not want to anger anyone on this special day of Thanks, so we just hung back and allowed them to make up more ground.  We figured that they are probably pretty decent players if they were dedicated enough to play on Thanksgiving, so we ended up deducing that maybe they are having an unlucky round.  We kept our distance.  

As we started the back 9, still playing at a rather slower pace in order to not put the guys ahead of us in danger, we noticed that a group of 4 were now following closely behind us.  We were trying to be respectable enough to the guys ahead of us, but at the same time not complete imbeciles to the guys behind us.  This pattern kept up for about two or three holes until we were on a long par 5 (a hole that can be anywhere between 475 and 550 yards long) when the guys preceding us were trying to chip onto the green, we were in the middle of the fairway, and the guys behind us were waiting to tee off.  I thought of how ridiculous this probably looked to a birds eye view.  The only three parties on the entire golf course all stuck on one hole… on a national holiday… on a sub-freezing day.  No one is having fun at this point.  This particular par 5, however, was straight.  We knew that the guys behind us could see ahead of where our party was and obviously tell that there were dummies holding us up, so I was scared to death when I heard a ball land five feet from where I was standing.  One of the players behind had teed off.  I was inhabited by a white rage that drove me past my point of reason.  So I did what any hot-tempered golfer would do.  I grabbed my driver, teed up my ball, and lined up a shot so I was aiming right back at the inexplicably rude players that almost knocked me out.  As I was in my backswing, just about to drive my golf ball right back at them, hopefully through their golf cart windshield, my brother-in-law stopped me.  He managed to calm me down and we just continued with the hole.  

At the next tee box, we waited for the guys behind us.  We figured that it would let the party ahead of us gain enough ground to finish and put an end to this ridiculous clog, as well as give us an opportunity to exchange a word or two with the man who nearly ruined my Thanksgiving.  The party trailing us finally pulled up in their carts.  I had already planned an assault of curse words I was going to hurl at them.  It felt like my ears were steaming like a cartoon; I was so anxious and horribly angry that I felt my teeth grinding.  I couldn’t wait to see what these jokers looked like.  To my dismay, they began apologizing before they even stepped out of their carts.  These idiots kept on surprising me.  They said that they did not mean to nearly hit us and simply said that they misread how close we were when they teed off.  It was pretty clear that their apology was sincere.  Though it was tough to tell because they spoke with thick eastern-European accents (we figured that they did not celebrate the same Thanksgiving explaining why they were on the course in the first place).  While I was still trying to burry the slew of insults I had ready for them back into the deepest part of my imagination from whence they came, we let these eastern-European men play through.  We shook hands, told them to have a happy Thanksgiving (they looked at us like they did not know what we meant) and both of our parties finished our rounds with respectable distance from one another.   

I follow this rule of rate of play even off of the golf course.  If I am walking on the sidewalk, I am walking with a sense of urgency.  It is a nightmare getting caught behind the type of people who feel the need to take up the entire walkway with 5 people who are each walking like they are under water.  Similarly, it is pretty uncomfortable when standing in line for something and whoever is behind you is so close that you can feel his or her disgusting breath on your neck.  They have a word for these kinds of people on the roadway, tailgaters.  If you drive slow, drive in the right land, if you need to pass, do it in the left lane.  This basic piece of golf etiquette emulates the respect for personal space and can apply almost anywhere in life.  For one final comparison, the men might only understand this one, I will say treat every situation involving personal space as if it were taking place at the urinals.   

Hit ‘em Long, Hit ‘em Straight,

Sean            

Pick 2

The weekend before snow hit my neighborhood was a great time to get out and play a round of golf.  It was freezing cold. As a result, it kept a lot of golfers off of the course, so my buddy and I essentially had 18 holes to ourselves.  Before we bundled up and went out to the first tee box, the club pro had warned us that the course plays fairly long, but tee shots (the first shot of the hole) were going to play especially tricky because of the heavy wind.  After hearing the wise man’s advice, I decided to leave my driver (the massive club that most players use to tee off) in the car.  I figured that the pro knew what he was talking about; also, my last time using the driver was horrendous and I didn’t feel like walking around in the woods in search for my ball after each tee shot, especially because it was below freezing.  We took our cart over to the first tee box (the area where players hit their first shot) and prepared to start our round.  After a few jokes and insults towards one another pointing out how awful each of us will play that day in what seemed to be arctic conditions, my buddy teed up his ball and took his first shot.  It looked good off the club, but sliced (when the ball tales to the right for righties, and left for lefties) into the trees.  We both read this as a horrible omen for the round to come.  After his series of curse words and walk of shame back to our cart, I teed up my ball.  Following the club pro’s advice, I used my 5 wood (a club smaller than the driver, but still useful for tee shots, or long shots on the fairway).  I reached back with my club and drove the ball about 215 yards down the center of the fairway.  The distance is nothing to brag about in the slightest, but following the pro’s wise words of caution, I was not going for distance, just accuracy.  I considered this an excellent start to the day.  

My buddy had to take his second shot deep in the woods.  Not only did he have several trees to avoid, his ball was lying on frozen dirt, not the best lie.  Naturally, he shanked it once again.  I, however, hit another beauty that landed about 10 yards from the front of the green.  It took my, now extremely frustrated, friend another 2 strokes to get to the spot that my ball was lying.  He took his chip shot (This is a shot using a wedge, a club that is ideal for short shots because the club has a high angle so a player can hit a ball high in the air to avoid a long role. It just lands and sticks.).  My friend, despite the fact that he was fuming at this point, pulled it together and hit a beautiful chip shot that landed about 3 feet from the hole.  I, thinking I was for sure going to walk away from this hole with an easy par (4 shots on a par 4 hole), chunked the chip shot (hit to much of the ground and not enough of the ball) and my ball rolled off the other end of the green.  I was shocked.  I felt silly for letting my hubris get the best of me.  My second chip shot made it on the green, but did not leave me an easy putt for bogey (5th stroke on a par 4). I still had about 12 feet of green between my ball and the hole, which seemed like 12 miles that day.  Skipping a few details that will only make me angry, it took me two putts to sink my ball.  I walked away with a double bogey after a beautiful drive and second shot.  My buddy also scored a double bogey because his chip game and putting saved him.  

I will spare you some details because I probably am not allowed to repeat some language that was spoken that day, even on the internet,  but the following 17 holes went exactly the same way as the first.  My tee shot and second shot were works of art, while my chip game and putting was something out of a horror show.  My buddy, on the contrary, did not have a single decent drive or second shot, but his chipping and putting kept our scores about even.  My 5 wood and my mid irons (clubs that a player typically uses for his or her second shot) were working well, but my wedges and putter did not want to perform on this particularly frigid afternoon.  My friend had the exact opposite experience.  

At the end of the round we both were pretty satisfied with our play, despite that half of both our games did not show up; I was lacking in putting and chipping, and he, driving and mid irons.  We walked off of the 18th green with pride and headed for the clubhouse for a well deserved lunch.

Discussing each of our rounds while hurling an insult or two at one another, we came to the most simple conclusion that our untutored minds could accomplish.  It is as follows, there are four parts of golf: driving (first shot), mid irons (usually the second shot), chipping (using a wedge between 5-100 yards from the green, depending on the type of player you are), and putting, but the average player will probably only have two of those four go well for him or her on any given day, and honestly, that player has no idea which two of the four will show up.  Just because the player only did well with two of the four, however, does not mean that that player should feel disappointed.

I have noticed a correlation with this golfing theory and my everyday life since that bitter day on the course.  If I have a great morning: good breakfast, decent commute, then I might have a sort of crummy afternoon: burn my sandwich, lose my keys, but then I would look forward to a great night: good movie on tv, get to see a long lost friend.  It seems that only half of the things in my everyday life seem to go my way, while the other half does not.  But I am OK with that.  I do not want anyone to think that I am simply accepting mediocrity; I believe I am picking my battles wisely, and knowing what is a victory and what is a loss and learning from it.  And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow my chipping and putting will show up once again.     

Hit ‘em Long, Hit ‘em Straight,

Sean