I am have been playing golf for nearly sixty (60) years now. My mother and grandfather used to play in Vermont and I tagged along behind them with a broken down four wood as a toddler. I am hooked. Addicted. Bled golf. Have been, will continue to do so unless I get a hole in one. Then I am quitting? On our last round of the season today at Longshore, with great weather in the 80’s, I started off playing poorly. A few double bogeys and I was about to quit. Plus my lady was kicking my ass in our normal match-play format (she gets one stroke a hole). So I get to the par 3 and hit a pure 6 iron to one foot of the hole. Stroke in the birdie. On the next hole, a long par 4, I hit a good drive and hit a pure 7 wood within two inches of the hole, some 210 yards away. I am smoking. Par the next, part the next. On the ninth (and our final hole), I smack a perfect drive but am blinded by the early setting sun. Can’t find the ball anywhere? Lost ball. Lose the hole with a double bogey. And our golf season is over. And that my readers, is why golf is a four letter word!!
To a worm in horseradish, the world is horseradish