Tuesday, September 16, 2014

The Legitimategolf Reality Tour, volume 1

Mr. F was understandably hesitant to have his actual identity associated with this blog, but there's his hat sitting in the rough.

Over the weekend I had a visitor. One of our brave readers from south of the Mason-Dixon came up to the city for a bit of adventure, personal edification, some light tourism, and to experience first-hand a slice of ghetto golf life.

Due to circumstances we ended up playing Dyker Beach twice in three days. Not the best itinerary, but perhaps good for my Southern friend in that this would at least offer him a deeper, rawer, more immersive experience. This is after all the ground-zero of ghetto golf in the Americas, in my opinion.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Inching towards summer's end

I am now in full longing for cooler weather and all the goodness it brings to golf courses everywhere. I now daydream about beanie hats and long sleeves; about saying "F off" to the sunscreen, bermuda shorts, all the thrice-a-year golfers that gum up the works during peak season.

Still, we are talking about clinical addiction here. As much I'd like to blow the whole thing off until around October, needs must be met. So it's back to Silver Lake.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Penalized in the Poconos

The Pocono Mountains are located in northeast Pennsylvania, about an hour and a half from New York City.

Around here the name Poconos is generally synonymous with alpine fun and good times, located within a sensible distance of the big cities. As a non-native New Yorker I had always assumed that it was a place to be. A destination if you will.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Stuck in the mud

The happy roadtrip times are over. I am back in the city to ride out the dog days of summer. The weather has been unsettlingly cool this year, yet the deep summer blahs are still in full effect. At this point I feel like I'm only playing to fill a need, to avoid the withdrawals. To get back to zero.

Monday, August 25, 2014

Street Scenes: decline of golf, hits Manhattan

Came across a rather dismal tidbit on the internet yesterday. EV Grieve is a neighborhood blog that covers the goings on in (and let's face it, the cultural demise of) the East Village area of Manhattan, which is where I've lived for most of my time in New York. It is still my neighborhood though in a sense, because while I moved out three years ago, it was only to the next neighborhood over. I'm only a par 4 length away, and when it's time to eat out I usually end up back in the old 'hood.

Besides news the blog covers all sorts of ephemera, some of which involves semi-interesting garbage left out on the sidewalk. This one hit close to home, especially since I'm a stand bag user myself. (Apologies for the graphic filth in the photos.)

Street trends: Empty golf bags

We spotted these two empty (and unattended) golf bags yesterday morning outside the new Cooper Union building… they weren't for the taking though… 

Frankly I'm not sure what to make of this. It's a little disconcerting that all three of those bags seemed to be in decent condition, fairly modern, and name brand items. Especially the Ping. Everyone knows that the best stand bag in the business is a Ping stand bag. Even an Ogio is not half bad. I've used one myself.

Plus this all happened within a day or two. One doesn't just throw out a good Ping stand bag, unless something really bad has gone down. Or one has just stopped caring completely.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Roadgolf: Hanover CC, Dartmouth College, Hanover, NH (Doggie on board)

I never expected to wind up here in New Hampshire, never mind on the campus of an Ivy League college. But we're staying in the ultra-quaint town of Woodstock, Vermont, and the only golf course there--the RTJ Sr.-designed Woodstock CC--happens to be hosting a gigantic tournament today. Very disappointing, but at least the lady on the phone was extremely apologetic about it--that softened the blow a bit.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Roadgolf: Catamount Golf Club, Williston, Vermont

After a full day of wandering around Burlington, then hiking around a place called Niquette Bay State Park, there was still a bite of daylight left. So we found a quiet little semi-private 9-holer in tiny nearby Williston. This was the view that greeted us as soon as we got out of the car, but that didn't keep me from interrogating the lonely pro shop guy about whether "it was busy out there", hopeless gutter-rat that I am. I felt so out of place as soon as that came out of my mouth. Here we are well into the super-twilight hour, certainly don't see much of anyone out there and yet, I cannot stop myself from stressing about a crowded course. In a remote town with population under 8,000. In the 2nd least-populated state in the goddamn union. The only crowds here are the ones in my cluttered mind. Sad. I wonder if there is any hope for the likes of me.