Really … this isn’t a golf story

By my usual atrocious standards, I actually played pretty well … but this isn’t a golf story.

Even though the course is less than 10 minutes from my house, I had never played there … but this isn’t a golf story.

Because we are who we are, one of us hit a shot off a tree that careened directly back into a sand trap … but this isn’t a golf story.

We laughed at the return of my 3-iron, which he had last seen when I bent it over my knee while we were playing in a tournament in Maine … but this isn’t a golf story.

Continue reading “Really … this isn’t a golf story”

Golf … without the four-letter words

I’ll be honest; I haven’t been all that excited about playing golf lately.

My sheer incompetence, even at the driving range, combined with the inability to do anything about it, has left me discouraged.

But I hate quitting anything, and what was I going to tell my father-in-law, “Sorry, I don’t want to play today because all it will do is p–s me off”? Continue reading “Golf … without the four-letter words”