The Last Day of Winter(golf) 2017

Wow, what a wild ride this wintergolf season has been, right? The highs. The lows. But really mostly the highs. November through February, the entire period was positively gay with unseasonable warm weather and golfing joy, and not just here. All across the northern latitudes, people wintergolfed their faces off.

How To Play Golf in New York City: East River Bikeway Edition

Golf. You'd be surprised at how accessible it is from the island of Manhattan. One of my favoritest routes to get to golf is the one that runs along the shore of the East River and down the entire "Loisaida" (that's local-slang for "Lower East Side", you honky) to the doorstep of the Staten Island Ferry terminal.

Welcome to Winter '16

Okay, so I'm spazzing out prematurely. But I've been waiting so hard for this. Meteorologically speaking it is not actual winter yet. And it's been weirdly warm for the last couple of months. But, today it feels like actual winter--around 45 degrees with some wind chill. And so at last I'm actually looking forward to getting out on the course and chasing one ball around, after months of mostly whacking striped balls out into a meaningless void with no regard for consequences.

Packing a vacuum flask filled with piping hot tea gives me an enormous sense of well-being.

When the mercury dips below a certain level, I feel like the world of ghetto golf is my oyster. I can rove the fairways with little danger of my mellow getting harshed. On a day like this even Dyker becomes a safe zone.

Tons of leaves everywhere make golf a perilous sport. Who cares? I'm flying through an open course.

This was maybe the craziest round of an uneventful year. It was just so eventful. So much crazy stuff happened good and bad. I managed to hook a 9-iron clear around a big tree and on to the green. God is Great. Then on the next hole I shanked the most basic of sand wedge chips sideways into a bunker. Despair. All is futile.

Then two holes later I had a blind shot off a sandy lie to a short-sided pin. How did I even end up here? By flaring a high, weak 5-iron into the wind. Christ. Par would require a miracle shot. But I holed it for birdie. It is officially on.

I did things today to a golf ball that I've never done before. Needing to launch one over a tall tree-line I picked a 4-iron, said "What the hell?" and sent it straight up into the sky. I thinned a wedge off a bare lie with a full swing, and watched in confusion as it stuck the landing and spun back towards the hole. I pounded a driver with a solidness and squareness never experienced before. The deepest mysteries of the golf swing tend to reveal themselves on the course more than they do on the range, especially on a day like this. I think I might've got a glimpse at a Universal Truth of Golf. Wish I could describe it for you.

Disturbingly big group of beginners gathered at the first tee. Whatever it is they are up to, I don't want to know.

For it being forty-something degrees it was still kind of a nice day, and so there were a few people scattered on the course. When I eventually butted up against a foursome on the 13th tee, I sped over to the 15th tee, played 15 and 16, then played 13 and 14 and then zipped over to the 16th tee, well ahead of the group. Pffft. Crisis averted. A clever, impromptu rerouting made possible by a gas engine, a deep familiarity with the course's layout, and some can-do attitude.

I'm still marveling at some of the stuff that went down over the last couple holes. It was so much fun that once I saw the front nine empty, I jumped right back in and finished it off speed-golf style, in under an hour. There was daylight to spare and in these sun-deprived times, you've got to get it while you can.


After months of trying to avoid Dyker, and all places like it, it's good to be back in the fold. Damnit, it's like I never left.

Ghettogolf: Mosholu GC, the Bronx

There are three 18-hole courses in the Bronx, and all are well known by city golfers. But nestled deep inside the borough there's actually another course, a well-kept secret. It's the only nine-holer in the city and the most-easily overlooked node in the whole NYC golf network.

Ghettogolf: Split Rock GC, Bronx NY

Split Rock is one of my earliest golf memories in New York City. It was ten years ago that my old college buddy Chris and I mutually decided that the time had come for us to take up golf.

Ghettogolf: Clearview Park GC, Queens, NY

Clearview Park is among the very last stops on the Legitimategolf New York City Golf Tour (LGNYCGT).

Ghettogolf Report: Dyker Beach in decline

I finally busted out of my Staten Island rut and made it out to Brooklyn's Dyker Beach, my former spiritual home of golf.

Dyker Dealin' Days

Things are very slowly creeping back towards normal. I'm no longer eyeballing the weather reports with a bug-eyed intensity. We seem to be in the clear as far as any major freezing weather events are concerned; still, I'm not ready to put away my winter jacket just yet.

Closing Time, part III: End

I tried to maintain a state of stoic denial as long as I could. I thought I would time-shift my last days of 2014-15 Wintergolf, spreading the posts out in a vain attempt to savor the final good vibes of the season. And so here it ends, most unceremoniously.

More notes from the Weekend

Seasons change. People change. I'm a weekender now. Now that cold weather has arrived, the pecking order has shifted, the weekend has become safe again and I am venturing out to the course these days with impunity.

Roadrange: Edgewater Golf Range, Edgewater NJ

Located across the Hudson River on the New Jersey side, the Edgewater Golf Range is a place I've passed by quite a few times over the years. The sign isn't much, in fact you cannot even see it from the street.

The Weekend Runaround

A flurry of activity lately. Weather's been hitting the sweet spot lately--around 40º with windchills. That's about the line that separates the hobbyists and the truly afflicted. This is what I've waited all year for, right? Time to get out there and get it, by train, bus or boat.

More Fall Splendor, etc.

I had last set foot on Dyker Beach Golf Course in mid-September. After a turgid 34 holes in the span of three days, I decided "no mas" of this place until the cold season started: "Spending ten hours here over the course of two rounds reminded me of why I hadn't been here in a while, and why I won't be back until the temperature dips below 40º."

The Week in Legitimategolf

Sorry. I'm not sure what to say these days. I have been plenty obsessed with the game of golf lately but evidently it's kind of hard to describe what's happening; the words aren't really forthcoming. Plus, who the hell wants to brag to the World Wide Web about improvements in their game only to fall face forward shortly thereafter? But take heart, friends. I really hope I don't regret saying this, but I am onto some serious, next level shit, I think. And perhaps such an experience is hard to capture in lousy words.

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.

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.

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.

Sucking in the 80s

I found a rare tee time deal at DBGC, and then actually looked forward to seeing the old haunt again. Maybe I could rediscover some old positive vibes, maybe even some of my vintage scoring.

Ghettogolf Radio: "Feel the Pain"

Let's flashback to a simpler time--when music still had heart and soul, and the music video was still considered a legitimate form of entertainment--The Nineties! This alternative rock semi-hit by indie guitar rock heros Dinosaur Jr. popped up on my internet radio recently and hearing it I thought: "Wasn't there also a wacky golf-themed video?"

Hanging out in the local scene

It had to happen. I've been playing at Silver Lake with some regularity now, and sooner or later I was bound to start mixing in with the locals. When I first discovered this course it was late fall, and I played largely on my own, zipping in and out in a matter of a couple of hours, almost wholly unnoticed for the most part. But now it's peak season and there's a lot of people out there and it has become more apparent that this is a locals-heavy place. You certainly don't see many high falutin' Manhattan folk like myself on this island, so it's probably best that I make an effort to blend in without rocking the proverbial boat.