Letters to Jim: Golf just keeps getting better and better

Dear Jim:
 
Jim,  the new season has begun and I can't believe how much I still hate this game.

First, those of you who said, "relax, it comes back" are full of Shit.
I've changed my grips, my shafts and my heads. I’ve changed my putter for a
new hydrafloppy power mesh backup tweaker model. New cleats on my shoes, new socks, new glove.

I even found a new Golf Pro who has dismissed the 50,000 swings I have taken under other Pro's over the past 15 years and given me 16 brand new swing thoughts that will change my life. It is going to take up to 3 years before it all falls in to place but every monday at 5pm you can see me thrashing away at the range.

I have discovered a new mathematical equation. The number of ways you can think of to kill yourself is directly proportional to the number of suggestions your wife offers during Sunday golf.

My last three games have been 96,94,95 and my handicap is climbing like spaceship Endeavour. I am now in the position where I can only play with another member once so it won't be long before my games will all be with guests!

The only theory that makes sense is that my new exercise program has destroyed the muscle memory of my fabulous swing of days gone by.

I did get the distinct feeling that a lot of peole are enjoying my pain. This is known as Schadenfreude or the pleasure derived from observing the misery of others. I actually have made this my main source of glee in other aspects of my life so I understand and forgive you all.

The one really good thing is that I no longer have to think about investing $100k in a golf membership in Florida. Who would want to do this 12 months a year?

Regards,

Bill

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

Letters to Jim: A medical update

Dear Jim:

Well, one month after my Green Light Laser procedure as advertised I am back to my old self and ready to rock and roll. It is a good thing as two weeks ago I was only able to stop from shooting myself by lying in the fetal position holding on to myself with both hands.

As you can imagine this greatly limited my social life and there aren’t many restaurants that are comfortable serving you when you are in that position.

This was certainly a case of misleading advertising at best and anyone contemplating this procedure should call me for the facts.  At the end of the day I learned some things about myself that are disturbing.

I am clearly a Wuss. As I moaned and groaned and leaned on my friends for pity I discovered that my pain threshold is non existent. If anything serious ever happens to me I’m toast. I also found out that everyone I talked to have much bigger problems that they are dealing with and aren’t whimpering in public. How weird is that?

Now you know there are some of my friends who are built tough. They bang in to a tree skiing at 100km/hour and rip off their arm and just pick it up and have it sown back on by the on duty doctor at the bottom of the hill. They then ski for the rest of the day and never mention it. These guys are well known and I’m not surprised.

What does surprise me is the number of people who never complain about anything. How can that be any fun? Self pity has always been a big motivator for me and having others feel sorry for me is the icing on the cake.

At any rate, here I am, full of beans and ready to resume life as I knew it. The good news is that I can’t exercise for two months and that has given me a lot more time to savor an extra donut at breakfast. I don’t have a muscle left in my body and a sudden stop involves a lot of wiggling and jiggling in places I didn’t even know about.

Another few weeks and I will be back to my boyish figure and looking for trouble.

I will keep you posted.

Bill Meder

Letters to Jim: A Mexican holiday

Dear Jim:

Well, as you have probably heard Sally and I decided (I was pushed) to go to Mexico to try an all-inclusive week on the Mayan Riviera. I went with very low expectations and was I ever surprised.

First of all, as you know we haven’t stayed in a hotel in the Caribbean for 20 years, either renting a villa or mooching off friends. Seems that during that time the resorts decided to upscale their offerings such that what I once considered luxurious is now the standard for poor people. The places I thought were great from my past are now $1500 per night but don’t worry, there are no vacancies till next year so Mexico becomes your default option anyway.

Although the resort was first class in every way the people at it were mainly bozo’s or like you, were from Antigonish in the Maritimes. Actually, that’s a little harsh. There were some smart people there. Out of the 960 guests there were two people we enjoyed talking to. Unfortunately they couldn’t speak English so our encounter was brief. Now I don’t like to make comments on physical appearance but strangely most of the people were huge way beyond any description that I could articulate.

When we checked in to the resort I asked what the capacity of the hotel was. The clerk said, on check-in the capacity was about 200,000 pounds and on check out about 220,000 pounds. All their calculations for staff and food service were based on this metric.

The beach was magnificent except when there were two or three people walking ahead of you and the sun was sometimes blocked out.

The bathing suits on the women were for picture taking but I didn’t have the courage to get close. I could outrun most of them but I remember when I was in Africa they told us that the hippopotamus was really, really fast for a short distance so I wasn’t taking chances.

I can just see the designer from “Omar the Tent Maker” (Bathing Suit Division) showing his latest collection. “Here we have a snappy number with a 60 inch waist and the fabric on the top section will allow for a pair of 42 D’s to rest comfortably on the second roll.” Fabulous, make 10,000 copies and send them to all the all-inclusive resorts in Mexico.

The men dressed much differently. Blue Jeans with a Harley Davidson T-Shirt and a pack of cigs rolled up in the arm were pretty common. The ones who really dressed up had collars on their shirts and some even tucked them in. I had no tattoo credentials so I didn’t fit in around the bar. Next year I’m going for one of those big snakes up my leg and over my shoulder just like the guys from Calgary were wearing.

Mexico, my new favorite place and by the way we didn’t get sick there at all. Sally has been in bed for two days with a raging fever and things flying out of her body in all directions since we got home but I’m fine. So for me Mexico is fabulous.

Bill Meder

Letters to Jim: The operation was a "success"

Dear Jim:

I know your sister is a Nun and probably talks to God fairly often. I don’t know if he has a suggestion box but here is a sure fire winner for Nun of the month. Get some decent Quality Control processes in place. If I was a car, the recall record would have put the company out of business long ago.  Parts that are critical for the basic operation of the body are failing at alarming rates and early i.e. just when you need them most and pieces that you have no use for are good for 100 years and more.

All this to say in introduction to your “how is it going?” question.

I’ve learned another bloody lesson. When they told me that Green Light laser surgery for the prostate was a simple daytime procedure, they meant it is simple for them. No muss no fuss. Chop him up, hose him down (they forgot that part with me) and send him home. Now I got that simple part and unfortunately that’s where I stopped investigating. It’s like reading the small print in your Travel Insurance. You have to do it or you could be in deep dippy doo.

What they really meant to say was this is a simple little job and oh by the way, with a recovery that will make you cry for your Mommy nonstop for weeks to come. Let me see if I can describe this for you.

Picture you are skiing and you drink 32 ounces of soft drinks or 6 beer and then jump on the Tram with 100 other people. Half way down the hill the Tram suffers a power failure. 30 minutes later, nothing, one hour later still there. 2 hours on you are still trapped in place. Now can you imagine the urgency you are feeling as you hop from foot to foot? Try and capture that thought and then imagine having that sensation every waking moment for two weeks with the promise that there are another two to four weeks left!

This morning as I was trying to get a hand grip on the railing for the Jacques Cartier Bridge to lift myself over the edge I suddenly decided to go to the hospital for a reality check just in case there was some hope that I was missing.

"So I need to go ever 5 minutes!," I scream at the Nurses and any Doctors within earshot.

I arrive at the hospital at 10am and they say go over there and let’s do a flow scan. I didn’t have to go!

I then drank 500ml of water, 500ml of coke, a coffee, another 500ml of water and walked up and down the hallway. At 12.30pm I was able to dribble enough liquid to use for testing for infections. A little chat with the Doc and I was on my way. I had to stop 4 times to run in to a restaurant or garage on the way home. Even now at 4pm I’m still sloshing around.

I have read every blog on this subject. I have consulted with Doctors, Nurses and on-line support groups. I can tell you without fear of contradiction that if Jonas Salk or Sir Frederick  Banting came back to life and wanted to work in Urology they would consult me for all of their work.

The bottom line is that this is a procedure that you WOULD recommend to your worst enemy. So if you know someone you really hate send him over to me for reference and I will put a smile on your face. In the meantime if you get a little peeved at my being I a little irritable talking to you on the phone it is nothing compared to the hell I’m going to have to pay for chewing the end off of the sofa this afternoon.

I’ll keep you posted. If I live, I could be committed and unavailable except for weekend visits. Come often.

Bill Meder

Letters to Jim: Golf at its best

Dear Jim:

I have had many requests for an update on my golf status since my Katrina like experience of last year.  And, no, it didn’t come back. I finished the season hacking and chopping my way around the Black course with a bag over my head, usually playing alone in the late evening. 2007 however is a new game.

January approached with the prospect of golf in Barbados and Florida looming ahead. Jeff was teaching at the Dome in Beaconsfield and with the same effort needed to book a hip replacement I was able to get him committed to fixing me up. A six iron is perfect for the  Dome and for ten weeks, several times a week, Jeff and I and the trusty precision camera, worked, hitting thousands of six irons. I would share the final videos with you but they have been forwarded to Augustine, Florida to the Golf Hall of Fame exhibit where Jeff will be receiving a lifetime achievement award later this fall.

 Perfect doesn’t describe it. From any angle and any criteria these were the finest six irons you could imagine. Here I come ready or not!

I lost 46 balls in Barbados in three games. It seems the six iron is not required on many holes on the Royal Westmoreland Course and my new, new swing doesn’t apply to any other clubs I currently own. We won’t be going back to Barbados for a long long time I’m sad to say as my picture has been posted in the pro shop with  “call 911 if spotted” instructions.

 Armed with my new swing for all clubs other than the six and my new, new swing for my six iron and my old swing that keeps visiting for old times sake I headed off to Florida. It’s not that I don’t like playing in Florida it’s just that we have run out of friends who can/will take us their club. Playing the public links is not that great and after three rounds I shipped my clubs home by Fed Ex in a plain brown wrapping, not wanting to be seen with them during the trip home.

Back to RMCG. After a painful session with most of the staff it was pointed out to me that the Clubs I bought two years ago are clearly intended for “range use only. ”Says so right there in the fine print. Ah Ha says I. New equipment!

This Thursday I hit balls with my driver and every driver in inventory at the club under the watchful eye of Jeff and Paul using the new radar equipped, GPS empowered, super duper measuring device that tells you everything that is happening to your ball. A complete statistical analysis is provided every 5 minutes so you can compute the square root of the clubface and other useful information in real time.  I hit for two hours. Now I don’t know if you have any idea how many drives you can hit in two hours but the last few were hit on my knees with the club firmly clenched between my teeth. I’m still having trouble making a fist two days later.

We picked one that is way better than my old one. I can get an extra 7 yards with the new one if I hit it right on the sweet spot. Cost $ 500. With 20 games this year that’s an extra 140 yards or $ 3.50 per yard. Sounds like it fits my investment criteria so lets go.

Saturday morning, new weapon in hand, one drive out of 14. I’m told, between snickers, to be patient so after they refinish the driver I’m going back at it.

Now to do every club in my bag this is going to take another 28 hours of hitting balls with the machine. I should be totally equipped some time in late August. I will give you the final results which I’m sure will be spectacular. ( Jeff will not be available for lessons in August since he has booked a one month Mediterranean cruise on a private yacht so I have to be finished by then.)

P. S. Recently, I have seen several people at the club with what looks like my new new swing. I discovered that like the decorator who sells the same chandelier to all his clients, Jeff is bootlegging my swing to new customers. I want you to know that I consider this swing Intellectual Property and there could be copy write issues. Consider yourselves warned.

Bill Meder

Letters to Jim: A speach to a room full of golf nuts.

Dear Jim:

Here is the talk I recently gave at my golf club.

Back in early February, our captain called me to see if I would speak at this dinner. “What could I possibly have to say?” I said, in a desperate scramble to get off the phone. “Why not talk about your love of Golf was the immediate suggestion? Hmm… I hadn’t really thought about love and Golf in the same sentence before.

What have speakers done before me? He said that the previous speakers were all smart guys who skipped several grades in school and spoke without notes for 25 minutes and were hilarious.

 I wondered if David would be impressed that the only reason  I finally  got promoted out of grade 6 was  because I had gotten too big for  the little desks and I  had spent 3 years in Grade 10.

Now, it seems to me that  everything funny that could be said about golf has already been said a gazillion times.

So I decided that I could probably say a few words in a respectful and thoughtful way that paid tribute to all of you and your love of this great game.

OK, how hard could this be I thought?

Sitting with a blank piece of paper in front of me I started out recording the things I like best about Golf.

I like buying golf clothes and I like getting my locker ready in the springtime.

First thing in the morning I really like driving at high speed down Ridge road , blowing past the stop sign at the pool.

 I like getting on my shoes and fiddling with sun tan cream, hats, gloves and all that stuff.

I enjoy walking in to the pro shop for a little banter with the team and taking a couple of hundred tees out of Bob’s secret drawer.

 I like saying hello to everyone around the putting green and hitting a few warm up shots.

Checking in with the starter and finding out who is responsible for the flag flying at half-mast this week is also part of the ritual. 

When I come in from walking 18 holes, I think, taking off your golf shoes is one of the great pleasures of life.

A few peanuts, chit chats in the 19^th hole and off to the showers and fresh as a daisy drive home for a summer dinner on the deck. What a Great Life! Golf is wonderful.

Reviewing my notes I noticed something missing and then it dawned on me.  

I love everything about Golf except the game itself.

Now there is clearly something wrong with me since I know that all of you are absolutely crazy about the game and everything that goes with it.

It is frightening to think that I hate Golf. My wife tells me that I am going to spend the rest of my life having it as my only activity!

After some deep reflection the only explanation I can come up with is that I’m kind of a logical guy and I like things that are easy to understand.  With Golf many many things just make no sense.

I’m talking about questions like these:

How is it possible that after 35 years of golf I still have the same handicap I started with?  Name one other sport where you can not get better no matter how much you practice, how many lessons you take, how much you improve your fitness, and invest thousands in yearly upgrades to technology. It makes no sense.

People who go to Florida and golf all winter come back with the same handicap they left with. People who stay in Montreal and ski every weekend start the season with same handicap they left with. How is that possible?

How is that in any other activity in life, lessons build on each other and you develop a deep understanding of whatever you are trying to do? A golf lesson has a shelf life of about 48 hours before every last shred of new knowledge has completely dissipated. What part of the brain is so screwed up that it handles this particular activity in such an inefficient manner?

I recently completed a one week total immersion golf school in Florida. At the end of the week one third of the instructors committed suicide. The other two thirds were so depressed they couldn’t deal with the dead.

Is there any other sport where the harder you try to hit the ball the shorter the distance it travels?

Why does the way you hit the ball on the practice range before you play bear no relationship to the way you hit the ball in the game? It doesn’t make sense.

The  ball NEVER goes where you want it to go and ALWAYS goes where you  don’t want it to go.  This is ridiculous.

Wouldn’t the law of averages say that a ball that bounces near the green would occasionally go on to the green? Never! How is that possible?

Why does it stop raining as soon as you put on all your rain gear?  Always!

How do the slowest players at the club always get the starting time just before yours? Do they do it deliberately? They must. There is no other explanation.

Why do people shout, “ I never do that” when they just did it? I don’t get it.

I love golf tournaments. How is it possible that your partner always shoots at least 10 shots over his handicap and the team you are playing against has the game of their lives?

Why is it that when you play a bad game you feel terrible for several days but when you play a good game you only feel good for two hours?

How is it that some men can take their wives out for an afternoon golf game and claim to enjoy it?  What could possibly cause so many good people to lie like that?

I can tell you that if there is a lot of this in my future I will be wearing a “do not revive” bracelet and praying that I get  hit by lightening.

If that doesn’t work I suspect firearms will play a significant role in my future.

I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. Goggle “faking your own death” and you will see that all the ads that pop up are related to couples’ golf!

How can so many  grown men with above average IQ’s, hit a golf ball and then start shouting instructions at it? Don’t they realize they are talking to a ball for goodness sakes?

How is that people who are stone deaf in the 19^th hole where you have to repeat every sentence three times before they can hear what you are saying, be standing over their ball 50 yards away and be bothered by your whisper to another player?

These same people are bothered by every little thing. “ Did you hear that noise in the woods? Was it a duck? What’s that smell?

Isn’t it obvious that you, “ hit it fat, hit it thin, hit it in the water, topped it, sliced it, pushed the putt, pulled the putt or whatever?” Why does everyone find it necessary to announce to the group what they just did? We saw you for god’s sake! And further more we don’t care!

And if all that wasn’t enough, there are mean people associated with every aspect of the game. For example, think of the guy building the course. He puts in several acres of sand in a fairway bunker and just as he is leaving he thinks…hmmm I think what this trap needs is a 12 inch lip right here.

Why is it that every day one category of your equipment, but never more than one, is working beautifully, Your irons, your woods, your  putter, are like complete strangers from different cultures. Wouldn’t you think that from time to time they would all respond to the same tempo, swing, weather etc and work the same?

Do you notice that you personalize your equipment? As I’ve gotten older, my driver, for example,  reminds me of my penis. I don’t take it out much any more and when I do get my hands on it…I don’t know..it just doesn’t’ feel the way it used too. I do have fond memories however of when it was my favorite and often think of how much I enjoyed using it.

And don’t even think of using Viagra if that’s what you’re thinking. Viagra lasts a long time in your system. One thing that will throw off your game every time is  the arrival of an unexpected boner!

How ridiculous is the custom equipment craze? First they had radar equipment to test your woods with launch angles and such. Then shaft analysis required you to get new irons. This year it seems that your ball spin needs to be studied so that you get the right spin ratios.

 I’m really looking forward to calling the pro shop and asking to have my balls fitted.

Oh yes. You have to be careful what you say when you are discussing golf. When I came in tonight I said to our grounds keeper that we  wouldn’t be able to play because it was freezing cold and there was still  snow on the course. He replied,” don’t worry, we will be able to play anyway” I said “will we have to paint our balls black?” “ Oh no” he said, “that won’t be necessary, just wear an extra pair of shorts and you will be fine.”

Even on the golf course every word has to be well thought out. When you say to your best friend’s wife “ Bend over, keep your head down and spread your legs a little further apart, loosen your grip a bit and now just slide it gently in to the hole” you had better be sure he knows you are just trying to be helpful.

People who don’t play golf hear all of this and think you  need prompt medical attention.

Of Course, an obvious benefit is that If you are one of those people who really, really, really  like this game, when you become Senile no one will know.

Someone said that Golf is a game that needlessly prolongs the life of some of our most useless citizens. 

At any rate,  isn’t it possible that Golf is God’s idea of a  practical joke?

As I continued to write down my thoughts I couldn’t help but think that I was missing something. All of you can’t be wrong. As I analyzed the excitement I feel about the upcoming season I realized that I can’t think of anything I would rather be doing!

Bill Meder