IF we are going to go by the strict dictionary definition of "golfer", then I ain't much of one lately. Semantically speaking it'd probably be apter to label me driving-range enthusiast.
It's kind of embarrassing to say but it's true--lately I have been having more fun hitting balls out into a greenish void whilst confined within a narrow pen lined with polyester artificial turf. I know that seems like an affront to all that is decent but hey, life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.
Still, you cannot live on range balls alone and besides, it's fall foliage time in the tri-state--probably the premier nature event in this God-forsaken hell hole. I have learned that when it comes to enjoying the colours of autumn, the window is pretty short. Procrastinate and you will find that it's a fine line between the beautiful multicolored artistry of Nature, and a bunch of shitty, brown, lifeless debris.
The official Legitimategolf snack bag. This is the year I've said goodbye to the world of lame, gummy mass-produced 'nutrition bars' and rediscovered the primal goodness of the GORP (Good old raisins and peanuts) mix. Recently I jazzed things up with the addition of almonds and dried beef "jerky" to the bag. As a kid I remember being kind of uptight about the mixing of things like meat products and fruit products, but now I can't be bothered to care--one of the perks of getting older maybe. So I just shove it all in the gullet at once. Makes me feel like some sort of on-the-go prehistoric hunter-gatherer, plus it's actually a pretty snackalicious mix.
Approaching the 17th, an odd hole in that the O.B. boundary is right up against the green.
As you can see I have managed to hit a rather kickass approach to fifteen or so feet, yet I am a mere spitting distance away from a penalty and having to replay the shot. That's pretty fucked up. Someday I hope to watch someone hit their putt too hard here, and it rolls off the false edge and off the golf course property entirely, because that would be cool.
Despite all the wonderful leaves and shit, I was in no mood on this day. Not sure why. I scrapped on the front nine and pieced together a 40, but then on the back nine my attitude just sort of caved in on me. So did my feel for putting. I know that I made a big stink about a so-called major swing improvement, and here I go putting up another lukewarm mid 80-something. I never should have said anything. This is what you get.