Dear Jim:
Well I have waited one week to report to you on the Centennial tournament as I was whisked in to the Witness Protection Program immediately after the game.
I shot 108 on the Blue. Many people brag about shooting their age. I’m going to be the first member to shoot his blood pressure. I won’t describe the brutality of it but 31 years of practice and tens of thousands on golf school, lessons and oh yes did I mention experience? Weight on the front foot, play it back, play it forward, cock your wrists, follow through, shift your weight, stay back, hold still etc etc. By the time I took that 11 on number 16 I couldn’t remember my mother’s name.
I thought we would have lost big bucks in the betting. Surprisingly after the final tally was in we were down $45. Some up, some down and in the end nothing happened…who knew. It just proves once again that there are more horse’s asses than there are horses and they all play golf.
Our esteemed President, George Waters, has never bet our team in 20 years. His childhood hero was Scrooge McDuck. This year he put together a team of…can I say diplomatically….senior citizens who are long past their “best before” date. There were more artificial joints on that team than would be legally allowed in an official tournament anywhere else. They were 22 under on the first day! George was so happy, he bet our team $2 for the overall score. His hands were shaking but he tried to be brave. I have to tell you that paying George was humiliating and I saw him mark “easy money” beside my name on his betting sheet. You wonder how low can I go? Well this was the lowest of low.
In the old days we watched the results with great anticipation as the same group of sand baggers appeared at the top with -44 or some other ridiculous performance. Now it is all a blur with winners I have never seen before with names I can’t pronounce. Where did everbody go? And who let in all those young guys who can hit the ball 300 yards without breaking a sweat? I’m telling you we are going to hell in a basket and I fear that the remaining few guys like us will eventually be picked off by snipers just to clean up the membership for good.
So that’s the story. One of our team members quit. He has a very poor memory so he might not remember when next year rolls around and I think we have to soldier on until one of us gets hit by a bus or is killed.
At any rate, I have to go as my 5 ½ year old grandson has figured out how to spit water in my face through a plastic tube and he is calling me for another session in the pool.
I will keep you posted.
Bill Meder
