Dear Jim
You probably wonder why you haven’t heard from me for some
time. I have been trying to document my
ups and downs but this year I am flat with no progress in either direction.
People are thinking I
am very quiet on the course as I seldom talk or make comments during the round.
I fear the impression I’m giving is that
I’m not engaged or don’t care what’s going on. In fact I am talking to myself
non-stop. Here was the conversation with myself during the last three holes of
the blue course the last time I played.
“Now I’m too hot…last week I was too cold..the week before
too rainy. As an outdoor sport this has to rank as the worst. My shorts are
sopping wet and my shoes are squeaking. What are we doing playing in the heat
of the day?..I’m losing 3 quarts an hour!. We need a cart person driving around
the course delivering Gatorade..I may be dead within the hour”
“Ok, I know I said “hit” when ready. You need to get ready!.. I didn’t mean to
come so close to you but really you were never in danger…well maybe a little
bit …Ok if it bothers you when I am 50
yards in front of you waiting for you to hit I’ll move over to the side…no I’m
not in a hurry.”
“Damn it this sun tan lotion is running into my mouth and I
can’t get rid of the taste. How come I can’t wash it out or spit it out? Who
designs this stuff anyway? You can’t wash it off with a scrub brush after the
game but it runs down your face like hot syrup on a sundae non-stop for four
hours. Why doesn’t someone sell lemon flavored sunscreen?”
“Now I’ve got something in my eye, one of those no-see-um’s
flew right in there, got to get it out... Christ, now I’ve got sunscreen in my
eye. I’ll just take this water bottle and flush it out. Oops now my shirt is
drenched and my eye still hurts. I’ll have to hit the next shot with one eye…”
“Are they breeding these mosquitos with steroids? Where is
my bug spray?…empty?..why would I be carrying an empty spray can?..someone must
have stolen the last few squirts. I have emptied my entire bag and there isn’t
one spot of bug spray..WTF. I can’t
concentrate on this shot with all the buzzing in my ears. Now it’s stopped..it
must be biting me. Where the hell is it? Jesus, there must be 50 of them. Back
off the shot..idiot!..why did I hit that? “
“I wonder what the Speedo lunch special is today?”
“No, I’m not going in that bush to look for your ball. If
you find it you can’t play it anyway and it is possible you won’t get out
alive. I’ll pretend that I’m coming over to help you look for it. I can’t walk much slower than
this…Ok good decision…just drop one and lets go.”
“Now what?,. a cramp in my left foot. How the hell does that
happen? I’ll walk it off. Now my toes are cramping. Why does everyone else seem
so comfortable…I’m dying here. I’m never walking again…single carts are the
only way to go “
“If I can birdie these next three holes I’m going to break a
100. What a great drive, my best in two years. Easy second shot over the water...
How is it possible that shot went in the water... It was a great swing… Ok,
I’ll play for a boggie…Rats, I hate
going in the sand..why did that shot go in the sand? I was aiming 50 yards to
the left of the trap.”
“Good Out!..now I have sand all over my legs sticking to my
sunscreen except for the sand that went down my socks. I’ll give my shoes a
good whack with this sand wedge… Ouch!.. I hit my bloody ankle. Boy does that
hurt..I have to take off my shoes and socks and get rid of the sand and all
that grass that found it’s way into the inside of my socks.”
“A little par 3 over 10 feet of water..my favorite hole…Yikes,
straight in, didn’t even bounce off the bank.. OK, now I’m hitting 3…is there
no mercy? What the hell, no one will believe I had an 8 on a par 3 anyway , and
besides, an 8 isn’t going to change the enormity of my final score at this
point. I hate this place.”
“Almost finished…God this is a long and painful exercise.
Who the hell decided on 18 holes? I have been counting since the 11th
wondering if this will ever end. Oh Boy
what a drive…now for my trusty 4 wood.. it’s going straight…Mother McCready ….I’m
putting!…wow…a 25 footer…it’s in..SOB, What a game. I love this more than life
itself.”
These are the lively
conversations I am having while everyone goes quietly about their business. If
I spoke out loud they would know I am crazy so don’t pass this around. I just
want to let you know that a lot of stuff is happening and you would be proud of
me for dealing with all of it while appearing normal. I wish I was a mind reader
so I could see what everyone else is saying.
Bill Meder
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