HoodaThunk?

For the past month or two I’ve embarked on an effort I’d avoided for years. I’m learning to golf. How I came to this juncture is a long story for another day but suffice it to say I’ve found myself in need of enough skill on the links to avoid seriously embarrassing myself or certain organizations I represent on occasion. I have no illusions about being the best golfer at my office, for example. I just don’t want to be the worst.

I’ve gotten myself a bag load of decent clubs and a set of shoes that I can now stand on the side of a bunker without slipping in. I’ve even played a couple of rounds so far but, for the most part, I’ve been practicing. In terms of golf, practice means you’re at the driving range smacking golfballs out into a field somewhere. To say I’ve improved is an understatement. Where my first shot at this sport saw me hitting the ball no further than 50 yards and with no tighter accuracy than a 120° arc generally centered in front of me, I’ve managed to reliably drive off the tee to around 180 yards and I can now hit a ball with my irons to land within 20-30 yards of my intended spot, so long as it’s not more than about 100 yards distant. I’m pretty happy with that and I’m looking forward to playing the next round of golf in about a week or so.

Staying in practice being necessary, I hit up all the normal golf fiends at the office yesterday to see if anyone wanted to hit a bucket of balls downrange at lunch. Normally, I can get at least 1 to come with me. Not so yesterday. For various reasons, everyone was booked up tightly enough that they couldn’t hit the range with me and still make it back for their meetings. I might not have gone yesterday but the weather here was so good (temps and humidity way below normal!) that I decided to just go alone. I got to the range, bought my bucket, and grabbed a spot near the center of the firing line.

My practice regimen starts out with a 9-iron hitting for accuracy to a flag near the center of the range. The first hit put the ball within 5 feet of that flag. So did the second. And the third. The fourth landed so close to where my 1st had landed that I doubt there was so much as a club-length between them. I did equally well with the 7-iron and the 5 after that. Still amazed, I switched over to my driver to go for the distance.

I have a mean slice. That means I can usually count on my drives bending at least a little to the right. Not yesterday. Five drives right off the tee flew out like they were on laser-guidance straight out away from my position. I hit a total of 20 drives and every single one of them went out past 200 yards. On 2 of them, the ball reached the fence at 230 yards, right at the base of the fence. Every one of those drives went straight out and hit the ground within a 10° arc of my centerline.

To finish off, I usually pull out the pitching wedge or the sand wedge and work on the short game. Both of these clubs are designed to give you lots of altitude and short distance. You use these clubs when you want to place the ball precisely and have it stick where it lands. Properly done, the ball is almost falling straight down when it hits. To give you a target to shoot for, this range has a couple of baskets that look like giant basketball hoops angled so the top opening is almost facing you directly. The object is to put the ball into the net hanging from the baskets. I’ve only done it once before.

Yesterday, I managed it 3 times. And I came really, really close at least a dozen more. The upshot?

No. One. Was. There. To. See. It.

Oh, yeah. God’s got a sense of humor. And it’s a dry, burning sense of humor, at that. I can’t even tell my co-workers about it, either. They’d never believe it. Perfect, it seems, only happens alone. Ah, well. Back to the clubs…