Monday, May 30, 2011

Golf, Golf, Golf

This past week I played golf three times at Eisenhower Park - the White Course. Curiously, I shot 81 all three days. And in between rounds I've been hitting the driving range, practice greens, and flipping flop shots in my backyard.

This upcoming week I will be golfing another 4 or 5 times. I'm playing in a two-man tournament on the South Jersey shore along with a bunch of my South Philly jabronis. Recall I threatened to do that last year. See - Triumphant Jabronis!.

I've played in it before - three times actually - but not in the past 8 years as I moved too far away - from NY, to NC for a year, and then to serve my 5 year sentence in Boston before returning to NY last May.

So the pretext, er excuse, for all this little-white-ball-whacking has been that I'm preparing for my tournament. Is it competitive?

Yeah, at the top anyway. 128 teams qualify on the first day and are then flighted for match play. You can treat it as seriously or as frivolously as you please. Lose a match and start boozing...

Now I'm not that good (7-9 handicap?) compared to the guys that play in these events. BUT I am smart enough to at least choose a partner who's better than me!

While I do practice hard, I don't take the game too seriously. I'll be content to just *not suck* and have a couple streaks of good play, a few low carb beers, and a dozen cheesesteaks/hoagies over the week. Heck you could put bird $hit on an Amoroso roll and I'd lap it up.

Of course the idea of hitting a ball around with a club is intrinsically Moronic...

But that's not the point. Golf, for me anyways, is a rewarding exercise in *self-mastery*.

The spring has been tough on my time. The kids were swamped with organized activities that I had to chauffeur them to; I had tons of yard work to do; and then there was my golf practice. After this tournament I'll be putting my clubs away for a while so I can get back working on my websites.

1 comment:

Anne Galivan said...

This clip reminded me of the time my dad waded into a lake to retrieve a golf ball (he was born in the Depression and didn't believe in "waste"). He ended up cutting his foot on coral rock and had to take a trip to the ER. At first the doc was going to stitch him up until apparently another doc looked at it and said, "Oh no, you never stitch up a cut from coral rock." Apparently it locks in bacteria or something. They dressed it and sent him home.

I'm pretty sure my dad let sleeping golf balls lie in the lake after that. This clip also reminds me of how much I miss him. He passed away in August of '08. He was quite the character and we were very close.