Wednesday, January 13, 2016
Despite some superior January weather, I ended up not playing any golf until the second week of 2016, needing to recover from the flu. On the day that my condition finally took a drastic turn for the better, it happened to be a little over forty degrees out with light winds--that is to say perfect winter golf conditions.
Three weeks since I've been here and Silver Lake is pretty much unchanged. The crew has done a good job of getting rid of the last of the dead leaves, and seeing the course in this ready-to-play condition is getting me psyched for the next few weeks of winter.
If these photos look off that's because they are! My regular phone died, so we're running on backup power for the moment. These retro-photos were taken using a several-generations-old iPhone, from back in the dark ages of smartphone tech.
Holy fucking shit it is good to be out here. When mind and body are sound, truly you have riches. This round feels like a gift from God. And at less than nineteen bucks cart included, a righteous bargain. After pushing a tee shot here, I somehow hit a low bullet slice around this tree from about 190 yards out...
...to about ten feet. I looked up to the heavens and asked, "What???"
Despite a weakened swing I'd been hitting the ball pretty straight all day. Then finally on the 17th tee I started thinking ahead to dinner. Because I'd had the flu and ate almost nothing for an entire week, the appetite was coming back with a fury, and now was threatening to derail what had started out as a really fun golf round.
With just a couple holes to go and all the food inside me long since metabolized I daydreamed about warm, succulent barbeque ribs, giant carne asada burritos, a pile of Chinese sweet and sour pork. Egads, being out here in this gnawing cold thinking all these delirious thoughts about hot dinners, something had to give. I made an unfocused, uncommitted swing off the tee and hit a huge, high 3-wood block, deep out of bounds. I promised myself a glutton's meal after the round, but only if I first bore down and tried to steer the ship into the dock without too much damage inflicted.
Okay, so an 86 didn't exactly light up the course. But standing there at the threshold of a new calendar golf year I felt such gladness and optimism. Normally I couldn't give two shits about the significance of New Year's anything, but right now after that long layoff and a rough battle with sickness, I can't help but to feel a sense of renewal, to look ahead to better swings, shallower planes, solider contact and loftier ball flights.