Quit....Never!

Dear Jim:

Here is the latest.

I have done a deep dive on all the data available regarding my game., The courses, my attitude , hole by hole scoring analysis, hitting tendencies,  etc and have determined that  the following strategy could lead to  a return to glory .

If I can play from the Ladies Tees and hit my drive straight and then hit my next shot straight and then chip on to the green and if any putt under 6 feet is a gimme I have a 50/50 chance of getting a Bogey. Bogey golf would be just fine for me.

This  strategy however has serious flaws as you would quickly point out and before I started shaving my legs I figured I need to give it one more practical  shot..

To the shouts of  “Quitter” from family and friends I  finally agreed  to take a 1 ½ hour lesson with cameras and all the bells and whistles yesterday evening.

Now in 30 years of taking lessons I have never seen a Golf Pro cry.  I don’t mean moaning and groaning I mean tears streaming down the face accompanied by sobbing.

When we started I quickly  informed him that I couldn’t translate the “to do” action from my brain to my body.

“No Problemo, I have 50 exercises that will get you to do what I am telling you needs to get done. Lets go” Cameras, action!

Around idea 23, cracks were beginning to show and I heard a faint “useless twit” comment while I was addressing the ball. By number 35 and one hour in to the session we were both understandably tired and by now I am gripping my Driver with both hands and shouting to stand back and let me hit this f …er.

Total destruction occurred around idea 43 with both of us in a bath of perspiration and each instruction barked out with spittle flying farther than the ball.

Finally the pro took  his IPAD and began typing his letter of resignation from both the club and the PGA.  Pity, our relationship may remain strained for some time as he wouldn’t even let me drive him back to the club but chose to walk back instead, right down the middle of the range

First mistake…I know an hour and a half is a long lesson. When I finished it took two guys from the bag shop to pry my hands off the driver. The cramps in my fingers and hands made eating dinner with a knife and fork a non starter. As the evening wore on other parts of my body started to cramp up and by this morning I was just able to hold a toothbrush  with both hands. I wasn’t in much shape for my regular Sat game.  I won’t bother you with the blow by blow of that round but lets just say that 8 is my magic number. On the way home I bought  a Loto ticker with only 8’s and 7s in the number.

No, I am not making this up.  Now I am determined and  will put in more work next week. I will keep you posted. Tomorrow lucky me is playing with Sally who has a lot of good ideas on how I can improve and become a better person at the same time.

Bill Meder

Dear Jim: The Grandkids leave!

Hallelujah!  Many people think this word was derived in biblical times as part of some religious ceremony. Not true. It was originally coined long ago when two Grandparents waved goodbye to their daughter and Grandchildren after a 15-day, home visit.  As they turned to each other they spontaneously shouted, Hallelujah!

Religions everywhere adopted this proclamation as an expression of uncontrollable joy.

(You should know that there is no Male who is brave enough to acknowledge this out loud but I thought you should know this fun fact anyway. Be careful if you use it as women can be very hostile when the Grandchildren are concerned.)

The 9-year-old girl is a circus performer.  True. This means she has to do a handstand, back somersault and the splits over the family room furniture every 7 minutes or so to keep her flexibility. This can be unnerving if you are holding a hot tea in your hand or looking the other way when an unannounced performance begins.

She is also smarter than me and proved it over and over again.  This is a problem since I have long assumed that my experience would compensate for young and smart. Apparently, not so much.

She also remembers things that I didn’t even know needed remembering and filled in the blanks whenever I told a story about something that happened more than two years ago.

A clear and constant demonstration of the fact that we old types are doomed.

The 6 year old is a world-class negotiator. I didn’t win a single argument in 15 days. I’m thinking of taking him with me when I do my next deal. Relentless, and if the logic doesn’t get you the persistence will grind you to dust.

Getting the swimming pool up to 90 degrees allowed for a lot of fun. For the first time since 1986 I dove in to the pool head first with my long forgotten Dolphin technique. As I broke the surface I shook my head to flick the water out of my eyes. The resulting crack in my neck was so loud the birds all lifted out of the trees. I also discovered that you can swallow an awful lot of water before actually drowning.

As the visit progressed my need to be at the office increased dramatically. By the end, I was at the office by 6.45am and couldn’t make it home before 7pm. What is really amazing is that I have no work that anyone expects, wants or asks for but I was so busy I could hardly think straight.

We had a wonderful time although it did take Granny out of her comfort zone.  For the sake of saving a lot of words lets just say she looks like she just put her finger in a light socket. Total collapse may be avoided if I keep up the hot and cold compresses and don’t open the curtains for several days.

Next year they want to come for a month. I don’t know if that will fly however as at this moment Sally is trying to book a 3-week hike to Mount Everest base camp for the two of us next summer.

I have had the car power washed inside and out and it is now in for detailing. Our handyman will do most of our restoration and the furniture rebuilding can be handled locally. So all in all a very successful visit.

It is now on to golf again and one final attempt to get some pleasure from this stupid sport before winter sets in and I can start hitting balls indoors at the Dome.

I will keep you posted.

Bill Meder

P.S.  I miss the little guys already!