Any golfers among you? Every golfer has a story (or more
) to tell, and I'm sure other Pelicanites would love to read them
Here's mine. In the longstanding tradition of golf writing, it will not be short, so get comfy...
I had played for a couple of decades now to a handicap of between 5 and 8. My best rounds are maybe 2 or 3 over par, with my best ever an even par 71.
I joined my club about 12 years ago. Every year the club would hold it's official Club Championship, played in match-play. A stroke-play qualifier would narrow the field down to 16 players in the championship flight. Every year I would make it through the qualifier, but get knocked out in the match play in the early rounds. As a 5 or 7 handicapper, realistically I just really wasn't good enough to advance much further; the winner was generally a 2 or better.
As the fall of 2006 rolled around and the Club Championship got underway, my game wasn't in tiptop shape, but I somehow felt that this might be the year for me. No reason, just a feeling.
The qualifying round brought the usual result - a mid-pack seeding in the field of 16. Going into the first round, my swing seemed to be coming together, my putting felt ok, and I was really confident about the match. Well, maybe not...I started off bogeying the first 4 holes to go three down, then snap-hooked my drive on the 5th out of bounds. I was staring 4-down in the face, and my swing just felt totally alien - like I had never played the game before.
Then I hit my second drive on the 5th, and POW! It clicked. In one swing, I had found it. I followed the drive with a seven iron to 30 feet, and drained the putt for a half. I won the next three holes to draw even, and won the match 3 and 2.
My next match was against the defending champ and top seed, a very solid player who had knocked me out of the tournament a couple of times in prior years. This year, he had no chance. He didn't play well, but it didn't matter, because I did, and won 5 and 4, draining a 25-footer for birdie to close him out. My putting, so often the source of despair for me, had suddenly become deadly.
I won the next match, the semifinal, 4 and 3. After 12 years, I had made it to the finals! That was the good news. The bad news was my opponent Dave - a local legend, a 2-time champ, and a guy who could hit the ball 300+ yards - 50 yards past me. A great guy, but good - he'd shot 69 to get into the final.
The final was played over 36 holes - morning and afternoon rounds. As I stood on the first tee of the morning round I felt good, especially about my short game. My opponent had beaten me in this tournament a couple of years earlier, mostly because I didn't putt a lick. I figured he might expect that again, and if I started making putts, he might get rattled.
Over the early holes, the match was tight. We were both even par and all square after 7 holes. Then he bogeyed 8 and 9, and I found myself 2 up at the turn. He dropped another hole at the 11th with a bogey, and when I holed a 20-footer on 12 for birdie, I was 4-up. And starting to smell blood.
My confidence got a test on the very next hole, as I faced a scary-fast left-to right breaking 10-footer for par and a halve. Nothing but net... Still 4 up. Really feeling it now, I dropped a 20-footer in for birdie to win 14 and go 5 up. Then Dave bogeyed 15, and I was 6 ahead. I gave one back on 16, but found myself standing on the 18th tee still with a 5-up lead - and needing just a par to shoot 69.
After good drives we both missed the green. He chipped up but missed his par putt. My pitch onto the green left me with about an 8-footer. 8 feet away from a six-up lead at the break, and 8 feet away from my first ever round in the 60's.
I'll remember that putt for as long as I live. Downhill...a little left to right. I remember striking the ball and watching it roll...staying outside the hole, then breaking in a little, then a little more, then...bang into the center of the cup.
I love the smell of 69 in the morning! It smells like...victory!
The afternoon round became an exercise in anxiety management. How do you follow up a morning round like that? I couldn't, but fortunately my putting stayed true, and even though I was 4 or 5 over after 11 holes I was able to hold my lead. Dave wound up hitting into trouble on the 12th, and conceded the match on the 12th green.
It was, I think, the best day of golf I've ever had, and one of the best days of my life, period. I think sometimes about how that first round went, about how that one swing seemed to change everything. A metaphor for life, maybe? Golf can crush your heart. So it's good to know that sometimes it really is a great, great game.
So that's my golf story. What's yours?
