Letters to Jim: The golf game begins anew.

 Dear Jim:

In answer to the basic question, “ Is your game back?” I would have to say yes…it is back to about 1984.  I think that I must be facing death and this is clearly the “flashing before your eyes” that is reported to occur at the end.

At any rate, based on the suggestions I have been receiving I now have proof positive that there are more horse’s asses than there are horses.People have suggested I focus on the entire golf club experience and not just on the whacking of balls. In that spirit, I have discovered that I’m very good at showering. It also seems that applying talcum powder without making a mess is a skill worth bragging about. This was a good suggestion

I have discovered an enemy at the club…. it is youth! Young, fit guys with six packs and a beautiful partner on their arms should not be allowed to call you “sir”. It is demeaning and an obvious attempt to intimidate. In fact the whole raft of new members who are golfing up a storm is a problem. We need to recruit new members who don’t golf. What’s wrong with limiting new members for the next two years to swimming pool party types? Lets think out of the box.

Yesterday I discovered that when you are about to clobber someone with an errant ball your are supposed to say “ um…excuse me…Fore…I do say FORE!” This is another piece of BS that is theoretical only and in practice saying “Fore” doesn’t even remotely come in to your mind.

I was hitting my shot from under a tree with a three wood from the left rough on number four blue (yes it was my third shot). As the ball left my club I noticed that it was heading (sliced a tad I would say) directly at the wife of my friend who had asked us to play in the mixed-member. Shouting “fore” never entered my mind. My first shout was “ Holly Shit!” My second shout, much louder, was ”For Christ Sakes…DUCK!!”

Now, I couldn’t lie and say it was someone else because she saw the brand and ball number as it passed her face. I discovered several things in this incident. When someone is clearly in a state of shock humor probably isn’t appropriate. When I asked if she wanted me to drive to the clubhouse and get a change of underwear, none of the group was amused. Saying things like a “miss is as good as a mile” didn’t much cut it either. Asking, “ did you see where it landed?” didn’t bring a response either. The shock wore off after awhile and fortunately I was able to up and down, down for a six.

Lessons learned from this episode include, “ killing or maiming your friend’s wife during a game is probably not good and would ruin the whole match” On the other hand it would make a hell of a bar story. Also fairly clear is that when someone calls you an asshole more than three times in one minute it is probably not a term of endearment. I don’t think she will walk ahead of me again.

 In summary it is not going well on the golf front. Our new golf pro, Colin, has disowned me. Yesterday at the range I called to him as he passed by and asked him how he liked this shot. Without looking up he said, “Great Bob, keep it up”. Standing beside me was Ted Fletcher who also asked Colin to take a quick look at something in his swing. 10 minutes later, complete with a slow motion color video under his arm along with anatomical sketches in 3D, Ted said “thanks” and Colin moved on.

For those of you who are able to fake your sincerity in concern for my general state of emotional health, thank you for your comments. This is the last of Bill Meder.

Bill Meder